Sex and Other Ways to Break You
by blacktag189
Summary: After their secret victory but public tragedy in Egypt the 13th Family regroup in London to begin their destined reign over the Circle. Trading adventure and freedom for meetings and balls Avery grows further detached from everyone around her, including Stellan. Soon she can't help but ask herself - in the end was this really what she wanted?
1. Author's Note

Hi Everyone! I am so glad you're here! Really...I am!

This is a small fandom and I appreciate anyone that takes the time to play along with the handful of us. LOL

A few things to get out of the way before you start:

1) I don't own, nor am I making any money off of this story or any of the stories I have here. It's just for fun and all the glory goes to Maggie Hall who deserves it. :)

2) I don't speak any foreign languages and Google Translate is not your friend. I've tried my best - but if YOU speak one of the MANY languages that show up in this story and see something you could correct for me I would be more than happy to take that criticism!

3) This is 100% rated M for a reason. You have been warned 13-year-olds lurking out there...I know you...I was you! LOL

4) I made my own CoU Wiki (lol) so all the Circle names and the such should be close but please forgive me if I mess some of them up.

5) This story has been a labor of love. And I can confidently say that because I have children. Labor is intense, painful, overwhelming, exhausting and deeply gratifying when you see your beautiful baby at the end of it all. Not sure if this baby is going to be cute or not...but I have literally bled and PAID for this story. My computer landed on my foot and sliced it open while I was writing, and I got a texting and driving ticket while I was frantically typing a scene into Google docs on my phone in the middle of traffic. I can't really say that about any other story I've written so despite this being "the beast" I'm still quite fond of it.

6) And finally, NONE of this would have been possible without my editor Maidenpride. She knows how much I love her - but I also need the internet to know how much I love her. Her support and encouragement and threats have helped me power through the darker moments of writing this story...and the darker moments OF this story. Without her it would have just been 2000 pages of rambling about Stellan. She turned this into something worthwhile and I will forever be grateful to her for that.

I see you lurkers out there...if you love it, or hate it, please let me know.

Enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

"_Kuklachka_?"

His voice rumbled low in my ear sending a shiver down my spine. I sucked in a long breath, slowly coming awake and let out a small grumble, refusing to open my eyes.

"Are you hungry?" He whispered, shifting next to me and running his fingers down my arm.

I shook my head, eyes still closed, annoyed to be awake. I stretched out, letting myself uncurl from the ball I'd finally passed out in. There were specific tender points, but overall my body just felt satisfied.

"Are you thirsty?" He leaned his warm, still naked, body into my own. I relished the pressure. There was nothing better than the weight of him on me and his scratchy 5 o'clock shadow rubbing my shoulder.

"No." I shifted under the weight and onto my side, pushing against him, my back flush against his chest, my bare ass in his lap. I wiggled around trying to see if he was ready to go again. We should probably take a break, but I was willing if he was.

"Oh," he laughed lightly in my ear. Then ran his long fingers over my hip and between my thighs, stroking me for a moment before stopping. "You're too much for me."

I pressed harder down into his lap, expecting to feel him ready but didn't. I looked up over my shoulder in question and he shrugged, smiling, "I'm only one man."

I laughed out into the room and then flipped over to face him. "So you're tapping out today?"

"At least for the next few hours. That was a personal best for me this morning." He leaned forward and kissed my forehead as I felt the blush creep up. No matter how much we did together, and these last couple weeks we'd done things I didn't even know existed, I still couldn't help but feel shy around him in these moments of pure honesty. He noticed the blush and started kissing my cheeks and then down my neck and onto my chest, humming with satisfaction.

I knew he loved it. Loved it when he'd make me blush before him. Loved the idea that despite where we had elevated to, the pressure of our Circle marriage, the heavy expectation of how we appeared to everyone else, there was still a single part of me that belonged to him...and he could make that girl blush. He continued to kiss the flush, as it slowly ebbed from my skin until I rolled away from him across the giant circular bed and onto my back looking up at the vaulted ceiling.

For a moment we both just laid there, with only the sound of the waves making the dock creak outside our private villa in the middle of the ocean. We'd been here long enough that I'd already lost track of the days, and the time for that matter. Being this close to the equator was like living in an eternal summer. I was sure London was miserable and dusted in snow right now, but my biggest concern was if I had a clean two-piece to put on for lunch. Not that I necessarily needed to. Clothing had started to become more and more optional the longer we stayed here.

When I'd made the arrangements for this trip I'd also bought out the two closest villas next to us to ensure we would never be interrupted. Quite an expensive thing to do during the high season for the Maldives, but absolutely necessary if I didn't want any kind of telephoto paparazzi or noisy Circle members to ruin this. So we had, in essence, twenty square miles of privacy since we'd landed mid-December. The only instances where we had come close to civilization was during the first week here. I'd allowed the indulgences of typical vacation excursions that Stellan had asked about. After all, I had managed to find somewhere he'd never been to. But after a week of me failing at snorkeling with tropical fish, shopping at all the exclusive boutiques, dining at Michelin rated underwater restaurants and midnight strolls along the Sea of Stars I was done leaving these walls.

That had been the point. We had everything we needed here. There was the infinity pool that dipped right against the ocean, the oversized hammock that hung over the water, see-through floors to peek at all the fish and turtles below us, floor to ceiling windows on the western side of the house to watch the sunset from our bed. Why would we need to leave here? This villa also had the best feature of them all - only one dock so we would know if someone was coming to try and drag us back to England.

It was absolutely surreal. Everything I had wanted from this trip. Yet, I still couldn't shake my...fog. I'd yet to find another way to describe it. This ever-present, ever-darkening fog that hung between the person I was pretending to be for him and the real me clawing to escape. I'd catch him staring at me in quiet moments and I knew he wanted to ask. But then I'd pull my happy mask back up and he'd move on. It was the same look I could feel him giving me right now. But he stayed quiet and I intended to keep it that way. He couldn't help me with this, despite wanting him to. If I couldn't even articulate what it was there was no point in exposing so much. It had to be managed alone. Just like it always had. Every move. Every year. Every problem. I certainly wasn't going to dwell on the fact that it made my heart ache a little to stay silent. But I couldn't find the words. Not with his eyes still on me. It was easier to divert him than talk about how I really felt. Personal, leading, questions usually worked best.

"Don't you ever wish you were somewhere else, doing something else?"

He reached across the space between us and ran a hand up my stomach. His firm fingers squeezed my breast for a moment, mumbling, "not currently."

I smacked his hand away with a laugh. "I mean, like people our age. Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be them?"

He pulled his hand back and ran it over his face, scratching at his stubble for a moment and then shook his head. He shifted the thin silk sheet over his hip before answering, "do I wonder what it's like to be studying for tests, living with obnoxious drunks and being turned down at parties? No."

"You wouldn't be turned down." I rolled my eyes. He shrugged, conceding to me.

"I had a better education from the Dauphins than I ever would have had in Russia. And I was already part of a secret society." He rose an eyebrow at me before continuing, "not that I would have had the choice to go. But it felt like a waste of time."

I blinked at him a few times, utterly surprised by his admission and then tugged the sheet up over my chest with a sigh, "I do."

"Which parts?" He pulled a pillow up under his head, settling in and I ran my fingers down the length of one of my pink highlights, contemplating.

"Everything. To be apart of something so big and alive and constantly changing. Be able to dedicate myself to something that could have meaning. The idea that I'd get to stay somewhere for four years, build friendships, build relationships, have shared memories of times spent in special places, doing special things, with special people."

This longing, acute and intense inside me, started to burn the longer I thought about it. It's why I'd only dwell on these thoughts sparingly back in the States. I pushed it all back down into the fog, this was a dangerous thing to even entertain. I looked over at Stellan and his smile nearly stopped my heart. He looked so surprised and happy my stomach fluttered with nerves.

"What else?"

"It doesn't matter." I looked back up at the ceiling. He slid closer and left a few feather-light kisses at my hairline. Even though no one could hear us he still lowered his voice.

"It does matter, I want to know everything. Don't stop."

I chanced a glance at him, fighting the blush at his unwavering attention. It's what I always wanted most from him and yet it continued to make me shy no matter how many times he gave it to me. He smiled again and I took a breath, contemplating, before tacking on the laundry list of other things I'd always daydreamed about.

"Concerts. Road trips. Rush week. Parties. Sporting events. A part-time job. All-nighters. Roommates. Boyfriends. A terrible blind date. Even boring things like buying books and going to the library."

He was quiet after I finished and I pressed my lips together, letting the disappointment and longing wash over me. I tried not to think about it anymore, the life I'd always thought I'd get to have. It seemed useless and spiteful. Why be mad about missing out on midterms and bad hookups when I was one of the richest people in Europe and married to the most powerful person in the Circle? But it wasn't something I had dreamed about. Tiaras and learning how to wave correctly had never been something I even joked about. Let alone some random prince whisking me off to some vague happily ever after scenario. How could I have known I'd be here?

"I have an idea." His voice broke through all my mulling and I locked eyes with him. "Why don't I try to pick you up at a bar tonight?"

"What?" I was confused at first, but this blooming rush of hope was tingling through me. It smothered all my turbulent musings. Stellan scratched the back of his head, completely casual about this unorthodox offer. I let the hope settle in my chest. This was something I had always wanted but had quickly made my peace with the moment I'd slipped his rings on. Was he being serious, he'd do this for me? "How would it work?"

"I go to the bar before you, get settled. You come whenever you want. And when you get there I'll pretend you're a stranger and try to pick you up." He smiled, his real smile, and the excitement burned in my chest.

"What if other girls are hitting on you?" I bit my lip. This could work. His plan could actually work because of the level of anonymity we had here. Sure we'd still need to bring our security detail, but they'd become masters at blending in now. I was, also, finally starting to get used to being flanked by two other men with guns that weren't Stellan and Jack. There was only one bar worth going to on all these islands so it meant that my fantasy fulfillment was going to be in full force.

Even with the knowledge that I wasn't going to strike out I still felt nervous. He shrugged,

"Better get my attention then."

"What if I turn you down?" I smiled and then laughed a little. He laughed, the circle of gold in his eyes catching in the late afternoon light filling our room. When he quieted he leaned forward and kissed me, whispering against my lips,

"I'll go home and make love to my wife."

* * *

Back in America, I'd had a recurring fantasy that I'd pull out during the long drives to the next state from about age 13 onward. As the pavement would slip past us I could imagine it was years from now and my friends were driving me to a bar or club or party. Once we arrived we'd all split up, wandering around the place to get a feel when I'd see him - the guy at the party everyone wanted. He changed depending on the year and my preference at the time. Sometimes he was a jock, sometimes a musician, but he was always enigmatic and breathtaking. He'd be surrounded by girls all vying for his attention and then his eyes would land on me.

My college daydreams always centered around inclusion, but even at thirteen years old my sexual fantasies had always been about attention. As the years passed it started to morph into a fantasy of hyper-attention through one night stands. I would feel wanted in that moment and forever after that. I wanted to be a story that was told. A story about that one time, in that one bar, with that one girl that I didn't even get her name. The thrill of the anonymity of it was always another strong pull. Clearly, I had hang-ups about being noticed and wanted. It was the reason I'd stepped onto the Dauphin's plane almost a year ago.

"Mrs. Korolov?" Peter, one of the security detail we'd brought on this trip, called out to me from outside the hut. I couldn't stop the twitch of annoyance at the formality. Peter should know better by now, but British manners were hard to break. I also didn't appreciate the interruption, but looking at my phone told me I'd been taking too much time to get ready anyway. I shook awake from my thoughts and looked into the mirror at myself. Dark smokey eyes, red lips, my backless, possibly too short, scrap of fabric black Chanel dress, and my insanely bejeweled sandals all complemented the deep tan I had now. My hair was falling down my back in curling waves from the humidity. I pushed some behind my ear and caught my rings in the mirror. I slid them off as I answered back,

"Yes?"

"The boat is here to take you to the bar," Peter answered. I examined the pale lines and indentations on my ring finger for a moment. I hadn't even been wearing these for a year yet and they had already marked me. That wouldn't exactly work with my 'single lady' persona I'd be taking on tonight.

I set them on the counter, thinking I'd keep them there but this gnawing guilt filled my stomach. I reached up for my necklace taking the clasp off and lowering it to the counter as well. It was a ridiculous 30-carat oval cut Siberian Amethyst that had been a "wedding" present from the Vasilyevs'. Set on an Art Deco 14K rose gold chain with accompanying Demantoid Garnets it was one of the most impressive pieces I, personally, owned at the moment. The accompanying note had given the long history of the jewel as well as a compliment about it being the only thing that could come close to the beauty of my eyes. Initially, I'd scoffed at that last part, but Anya and Stellan's looks of awe had confirmed it. It was heavy, but I had worn it more than once when Elodie needed me to look flashy for the cameras. Yet, no matter how many expensive pieces I'd worn over the last six months there were only two things I never took off - my wedding rings from Stellan. I slipped the rings onto the chain and then clasped the necklace back on, sliding it under the collar of my dress. I supposed there wasn't really a point in wearing the pendant now, but feeling the rings against my heart made some of the guilt flutter away.

I nodded at myself in the mirror, this would be fine. Not exactly how I'd always daydreamed about a moment like this, but my life had turned into nothing but expectation management. Then I had a flash of Stellan this afternoon tapping out on me and a rash, and most likely, stupid idea flashed across my mind.

"Two minutes," I called out to Peter. He affirmed back and I raced over to my luggage digging through it all until I found the small, thin, circular container. I popped it open and smiled, two hits of Molly left. Perfect. I was worried I might have run out and it was hard to score more somewhere so remote, and last minute like this. Finishing off the final sip of my vodka tonic I started digging through all my messy couture to find the clutch I wanted. It had been an impulse buy at the Alexander McQueen in Paris. We were killing time and Anya wanted to look at all the 'expensive' stores. Her eager eyes had been drawn to it immediately. The clutch was saturated with crystals and topped off with four decorative Swarovski crystal 'rings' to slide your fingers through when holding the piece. One of them was a skull with little diamond eyes that always made me feel kinda bad ass when I'd flash it in public. It actually bordered on gaudy, in my opinion, which made the price even more asinine. But seeing Anya's delight and Elodie's disapproval of the piece being 'off aesthetic' had ultimately been the reasons I did it. It was the reason I did a lot of things these days. I shoved the pills into the clutch and headed out to the speedboat waiting to take me to the bar.

* * *

_Yashrab_ was the name of the full-service bar on one of the bigger resort islands. I'd been told the name meant 'drink' in Arabic which was quite tongue in cheek of the club to do. The Maldives was a dry country. You were only allowed to drink on the grounds of a few of the private resort islands, and this bar, in particular, was one of the only ones that also had a dance floor. I was picking up the faint booming of the base all the way out on the water. As I strolled along the dock I heard Peter and Niall fall in step behind me. Never alone, I was never alone. I tried to imagine they were just two other guys on their way to the club as well, anything to keep the precious bubble of fiction I was swirling in.

It was already edging toward midnight, and Stellan hadn't sent me anything since he'd left before me which was helpful. I had to channel that person I'd always wanted to be, not the mess I currently was. The nerves fluttered in my stomach and I squeezed my clutch again. I had no idea what I was walking in to. I actually didn't know how to do this at all. Would there be enough people here? Would it just be him and I staring at each other from across an empty bar? Or would there be too many people here? Would it be like the sweaty mob in Ibiza? Or the drunken dance floor in Mexico? Do I try to find him? Does he try to find me? Do we use different names? Do I get to throw a drink in his face if he was rude? Maybe we should have talked about this a little before we'd both agreed to it.

I finally arrived at the entrance to _Yashrab_ and paused hearing Niall mumble something into his mic behind me. It caused a flash of anger to curb a lot of my nerves. It didn't matter what happened here tonight, we'd still have a four-deep security team watching and shadowing us back to our island. Some of the magic ebbed from the moment, but then the whole bar let out a shout of excitement as a song blasted through the speakers. I threw open and door and entered as they were still whooping and clapping. Relief washed over me, it was crowded but not overwhelmingly so. It reminded me of every party scene from every horrible TV show I'd watched back in the States. This was going to be perfect.

It was dark, only the horseshoe bar was lit well. The dance floor was crowded with a disco ball and some high tech lights near the front illuminating all the grinding bodies in moments of red and purple sparkles. Metallic streamers hung from the ceiling spinning and twisting above the dancers. I checked behind me and Peter and Niall had dissolved into the background. I finally felt alone. I looked around at the eight red vinyl booths that circled the bar. Each had a single light figure illuminating a bottle of something on ice in the center of the tables and bored looking women watching guys talk. Some of the girls were playing with all the confetti that was littered across the tables. The bar itself was filled with clusters of people in sparkling club attire. The groupings spilled out toward a row of six standing tables before it bled into the dance floor. Even the standing tables had been decorated with the same sparkling confetti. I spotted an empty bar stool and slid onto it saddled between a group of girls in crop tops and small sequined skirts and a group of men in silky button-up shirts drinking beers. The girls were sweaty and sipping water, glancing over at the men to my other side. I must have sat in their buffer seat.

One of the four bartenders slapped the bar in front of me and gave me an expectant look. I couldn't tell if he was carding me or wanted my order. When I paused, panicking that I'd left my ID back at the villa, he wiped the counter down in front of me and called out over the music,

"What will it be?"

I recovered quickly and pushed up on my barstool to lean toward him and shouted,

"Vodka, on the rocks, with half a lime."

He nodded, pointed to the bottom shelf of booze looking at me, I shook my head and rose my thumb in an upward motion. He pointed to the second shelf and I shook my head again and pointed up again. He gestured to the three remaining bottles and I made a quick 'Z' with my pointer finger. The bartender smiled at me then, giving me a little nod as he grabbed the Zyr vodka and then left to make my drink. I looked out past the girls to the dance floor, across all the standing tables and then at all the booths trying to find Stellan. I didn't see him. I knew this was the right place, though. Maybe he was in the bathroom? The bartender set my drink down and I picked it up and yelled at him,

"Bring another one!"

I threw the drink back finishing it in two swallows and slammed the glass down onto the counter. His eyebrow rose on his face but he nodded and left to make another. This action caught the attention of the man next to me,

"I like your taste in vodka," he shouted at me. His accent was vaguely European. I appraised him for a moment. Tall, crisp blue button up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to match the mood of a beach resort bar, perfect teeth but reeking of cigarette smoke and the piece of mint gum he thought was covering all the stench. I had a flash of the cloud of smoke that used to follow Stellan around and looked for him again.

"I have expensive tastes." I smiled back at him. The bartender set the drink down I reached and grabbed it without losing eye contact. He inclined his head toward the bartender and shouted at him,

"Put that one on my tab."

"How generous of you," I shouted a bit flippantly and then rose my glass toward him. He jutted his beer bottle toward me, the motion sloppy, flagging to me how drunk he was. We clinked glasses and took a sip.

"I have a booth on the other side," he shouted and pointed to the only booth that was currently empty. I smiled over my glass at him, raising an eyebrow. Behind him his friends were getting quite animated about something, their hands waving and gesturing, the exact language getting lost in all the noise. Behind me, I could hear the girls hissing about something, but again, couldn't tell what it was about. "You want to go sit?"

"I'm good." I took another drink.

"I'll buy you more vodka." He smiled and I felt like I knew his face from somewhere.

"I can buy my own vodka." I smiled back. He smirked. The song changed, his friends rushed him and he was pulled out onto the dance floor, the group of girls two steps behind them. I watched them all weave into the crowd and then finished off my drink. The bartender set another down, taking my glass and leaned toward me,

"From the man on the other side of the bar."

He pointed in the direction and I felt his gaze on me before I saw him. There on the opposite side of the bar, perfectly situated to be spying on me, was Stellan. His thin, white t-shirt was glowing purple from all the black lights, making him stand out even more. He inclined his head toward me, raising his glass, I did the same and took a sip. The alcohol sloshed around in my stomach and I set the drink back down. I needed to nurse this one or I was going to get sloppy fast. From the corner of my eye, I caught movement and watched as a blonde in a skin-tight red tube top dress slid her arm over Stellan's shoulders, leaned into him and put her phone in front of him. It illuminated his face as he watched the clip. The immediate clench of possessiveness in my stomach burned with the alcohol. Did it really have to be the stereotypical bombshell pathetically hanging all over him? The group laughed around him and I noticed it was all women. Was I really expecting a group of guys?

"You looked too lonely." Someone yelled behind me and the dress shirt guy slid back into his seat next to me. He flagged the bartender down for another beer and leaned toward me. "Are you lonely?"

"No," I smirked shaking my head and took another drink.

He grabbed the beer from the bartender and moved his stool closer to me. My brain tried to piece together his face. Was he an actor? No, not attractive enough. A wave of his stale cigarette smoke fell over the two of us and I coughed a little against it. There was a loud ringing of laughter on the opposite side of the bar and I turned to look back at Stellan. The cluster of girls around him were laughing hysterically but he was just watching me over the rim of his glass. I turned back to my stranger. He moved another few inches closer and inclined his head toward me, I leaned toward him as well.

"You came alone. You buy your own vodka. You aren't lonely. Is there anything else I could convince you to do?"

He leered at me, licking his lips before taking another drink and leaning away. I leaned back as well the disgust spreading over all my excitement of being here. He wasn't the first dickhead to suggest something like this to me. He wouldn't be the last. I took a sip of my drink and let a few pieces of ice in as well. I crunched them loudly, eyeing him disdainfully. He squirmed a bit under my stare and then I leaned toward him and shouted over the music,

"I could kick you in the balls."

He threw his hands up and bowed his head, quickly slipping off the barstool and away from me. I slammed back the rest of my drink and flagged down the bartender shaking the glass toward him. I sat there, fuming at the dickhead ruining my special night when he set down the wrong drink in front of me. I looked up at him to send it back when an arm reached across me and picked up the glass.

Stellan sat down to my right and took a long drink before leaning toward me and shouting,

"_Pardon! C'est à moi_."

I wanted to laugh. This wasn't going to work, was it? I knew everything about him now. There was no mystery left. From the corner of my eye, I saw the blonde in the tube top dress glaring at me from across the bar. The thrill spiked in my stomach making the booze spread all along my nerve endings. I leaned toward Stellan and shouted,

"I don't speak French."

He frowned at me, took another drink, and then leaned toward me again,

"_A ty govorish' po Russki_?"

I smirked and then gave him an annoyed look. Of course I spoke Russian. Not as well as him, but enough to annoy Jack and Elodie when we'd gossip about them in front of them. If I said yes this game would be over. I wasn't ready for this to be over. I shook my head and then leaned against the bar to pick up my drink.

Stellan contemplated this for a moment and then turned away from me glancing at the dance floor as he took another drink. His brush-off stirred a need in me to get his attention back. How was it possible to feel neglected and excited in the same moment? He was much better at this game than me. Then the realization started to bubble up from my slightly drunk thoughts. Of course he was good at this, it'd been his job to do this for quite a few years before I came into the picture. I could just see him being sent to some horribly trendy French bar to get information out of some drunk Circle cousin.

I felt the magic ebbing from me again and twisted my glass on the bar. Maybe we should just call it a night. But to my surprise, someone shoved between us with an apology toward Stellan and smiled down at me,

"Hi, you want to dance?"

He was tall and muscular with sandy blonde hair and beautiful green eyes that focused intently on me. For a moment I was stunned into silence, but I knew one thing for sure - he was an actor. From my tipsy thoughts, I was getting flashes of maybe superhero movies? I started nodding before my lips could even make out the words. This wasn't against the rules. Stellan's goal was to pick me up - and he'd just basically turned me down. I shook myself out of it and smiled back,

"Yes, I'd love to dance."

Tossing my clutch at the bar, the skull ring clinking into my tumbler, he grabbed my hand and led me out into the masses. I glanced back for just a second to see a very annoyed Stellan before the crowd started to form around us. It was humid and hot even at the edge of the dance floor. Unnamed Actor Guy gave me a little spin, the skirt on my dress billowed up a bit and I let out a long laugh as the booze swelled inside me. How many drinks had I burned through?

At first he was very respectful of my space, keeping a couple inches between us and smiling as we bobbed to the beat together. He was so pretty to look it, he had to be in one of those comic book franchises. I could feel the sweat already start to bead at the nape of my neck and along my exposed back. But as the next song blasted through the speakers the mood of the group shifted and it was as if magnets were sucking all the couples flush against each other. Possible Superhero Actor Guy was no exception. His hand found my hip, the other slid down my waist to pull me to him, but it felt too intimate. I flipped in his hands leaving all my exposed back to his chest only realizing too late the problem with that position. His palms held onto my hips and I felt him grind into me for a few beats. This was a guy that was used to fangirls blowing him in bathrooms. He touched me with the confidence of a man that didn't strike out often. But it just felt wrong to me. I was about to pull away when I looked back up at the bar and was met with possessive jealous blue eyes.

It stunned me for a moment, I stopped on the dance floor as the heady rush of emotions thumped through me almost in beat to the music. Elation. Victory. Desire. Mischief. I wondered how he was going to pick me up now? Maybe I'd pretend to leave with Wore Tights For a Living Actor Guy. It was all just pretend anyway, right? Stellan crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the two of us and the spike of thrill that came over me made me start to dance again. I swayed my hips into my partner, leaning into his broad chest and smiling back at Stellan the entire time. The crowd drew closer and I felt a swoon of heat and booze make everything wobbly on me. I took a little misstep and my dance partner picked up on it. He gathered my hair off my back, holding it in his hand as he blew on the nape of my neck. It felt like magic across my fevered skin, but one look at Stellan had me take a step away. He was shaking his head, ignoring all the raucous laughter around him and looked like he was ready to tackle this guy to the ground, superhero conditioning be damned. The second blow of cool air tickled the little wisps at my neck and I instantly knew why Stellan was about to get into a bar fight - my hair. Touching my hair was against the rules apparently.

I pulled away from Forever Stuck in a Franchise Actor Guy and turned around giving his hard pectoral a few pats,

"Thanks! That was fun!" I yelled over the almost deafening music. His smile dropped a little but he nodded and turned from me looking out into the masses. It took all of two seconds for three girls to surround him. I weaved through the growing crowd back toward my bar stool and sat down with a long exhale. Stellan leaned onto the bar to my right and I watched his fingers drum out a few quick rotations as he physically forced himself not to wrap his hands around my hair. I admired his commitment to our deal tonight, but it was obvious that he was struggling to contain himself. I decided to cut him some slack,

"Do you dance?" I called over to him, twisting in my seat. I shook a few pieces of ice into my mouth, parched from all the heat and sweat. He visibly relaxed next to me and shook his head,

"No."

Liar. I finished crunching my ice as I shook my head at him suppressing the smirk. Behind us, the DJ announced that they were going to take a quick break before the big event. The swarm from the dance floor started to break apart and move toward us. I scooched closer to him and looked up into his waiting face.

"Shame. I bet you clean up nice." I gave him the once over, lingering on the button of his pants. When I looked back up he was smiling again. "I could imagine you in a tux in some elaborate ballroom."

We shared a quick smile. He tapped out another rolling rhythm on the bartop and I could almost feel his hands on me. He loved it when I was snarky. I twisted my hair into a low hanging bun, fanning myself as he leaned toward me and said,

"And I could imagine my head underneath that little dress of yours."

I dropped my hair in surprise, feeling my mouth fall open at the audacity of his forwardness. I started laughing, hand to my chest, pressing my rings against my rapidly beating heart. How did he close any deals with lines like that? I should slap him. He smirked at me and took a drink. Maybe this was when we called it a night. I was drunk now, I could feel the alcohol singing in my veins and Stellan seemed like he was a moment away from dragging me out of this place and reminding me why he was the only one that could touch my hair. A sting of disappointment dampened my mood and I tried to compose myself so I wouldn't dishearten him too much. He had tried. Maybe this was always doomed to fail.

I shook some more ice into my mouth and caught a blur of red movement across the bar. The blonde and her clique of friends eyed me again. The malice in their faces was startling. Their scowls darted from me to Stellan and then to each other, plotting, discussing, strategizing. I took a quick scan of the bar looking for anyone else that was getting as much attention as Stellan. Perhaps the two other guys that had hit on me - which was probably only fueling the girl's rage. Then it hit me. All the pieces were here. I'd even been given the added bonus of publicly shaming a douchebag. This was only going to work if I wanted it to work. I was _at_ the trendy nightclub. I was _with_ the enigmatic boy that everyone wanted. He was talking _only_ to me. If I could just pretend he was a stranger and ignore all the comfortable ease between us this could really be what I'd always wanted. I decided to double down and play the game. I leaned toward Stellan and shouted,

"Your girlfriend misses you."

He rose an eyebrow and looked over at the group he'd left. The blonde took her chance and smiled brightly at him, holding up her phone, paused on some video and tried to flag him over. Stellan took another drink and the blonde took that as a yes for some reason. Apparently that was some bar code or girl code I didn't know about or understand? She jumped from her barstool and made her way over to us. The only empty barstool was the one to my left, I wondered what she was going to do. Push between us? Sit next to me? I set my glass down, Stellan turned toward me, propped one of his shoes up on the rung of my barstool and leaned in. My stomach clenched in anticipation. That was a little possessive of a _stranger_ to be doing to a girl he hadn't closed the deal on.

There was no room for her to try and squeeze between us, so the blonde rounded me and said something in French. It sounded friendly, I smiled blankly at her, Stellan told her I didn't speak French and the smile bloomed across her face. She thought she had an advantage with that. I took another drink so she couldn't see my grin.

She pulled up the video on her screen and tried to slide her phone across me on the bar toward him. It stopped short in front of me, stuck from all the spilled drinks before me, the girl let out an exasperated huff and reached over me to move the phone closer to him. I was about to snap off some of the French I did know when Stellan leaned toward me to see the video and I felt his fingers slid across my knee. I stilled, and then he ran his fingers across the bare skin of my thighs at the edge of my dress.

His eyes never left the screen as he did this, the bar was so dark the girl next to me didn't even see it, and the lust broke open in my chest. It pulsed so hard in the pit of my stomach that I felt my mouth drop open for a moment, frozen under his touch. The video ended, the two of them laughed, and then he drug his fingers slowly and softly across the sensitive skin again, letting his palm cup my knee. His thumb drew a few circles on my inner thigh and I felt the breath contract in my chest. I reached across the screen for my drink and took a quick slug.

The blonde pulled up another video. I couldn't even tell you what the first one was about, this one was no different. The blonde leaned even further toward me so she could shout at Stellan in French. He chatted back with her, casually, saying something that made her laugh, all while his fingers started inching up my inner thigh. A flash of goosebumps crossed me and I took another drink. This wasn't exactly what I had imagined when he said he'd pick me up in a bar. But there was no way I was going to stop this. Between his wandering fingers and the dangerous amount of booze in me, I was ready to go.

His hand slid up under the bottom of my dress, the tips of his fingers brushing against the lace of my panties and I shuddered. The jabbering French to the left of me became instantly annoying. She needed to fucking leave now. I gripped the counter as his fingers pressed harder against me and groaned out,

"_Dostatochno, Stellan_."

He let out the most victorious sounding laugh. The blonde cut off mid-sentence, confused and took a harder look at me. I clenched the counter again as he slipped a finger under my panties and smirked,

"You sure _lyubov' moya_? This is actually fun."

The blonde girl made a startled noise next to me, clearly Stellan hadn't divulged he spoke English as well. We both looked at her and she flinched away, surprised before she asked him something in French. His finger still stroking me he answered her back and she actually pouted. He said something to pacify her somehow and she nodded. I clenched my drink with my other hand, finishing it as she grabbed her phone and slowly made her way back over to her friends. Stellan leaned down to my ear and said,

"I told her you were my cousin and I'd come find her later."

"Christ," I swore as he teased me again, "you're horrible."

"You love it." He laughed against my ear. "I can feel it."

I felt the beginning flutters of my climax then and a shudder of thrill raced through me. We hadn't had a chance to do something this voyeuristic yet. But this wasn't what I wanted. If I was only going to get this one chance to fulfill my fantasy I wasn't about to come on my barstool in front of a club of people. He wasn't going to slow down unless I told him to. From the depths of my psyche the little voice that only showed up when I was completely wasted laughed - _she_ had all kinds of plans for him. It was time to activate the little domineering game we liked to play with each other. I set my drink down and then grabbed his wrist and yanked his hand away. We looked at each other and for a moment I saw the panic flash across his eyes. He thought he'd crossed a line. I smirked at him,

"You're cute. But I'm not going to jail for lascivious behavior."

"It's a dark club." He smoldered picking the game right back up. He tried to move his hand back and I gripped it harder and yanked it away. The lust flooded his eyes, and I gave him a pretty smile. I licked my lips and said against his ear,

"Be careful with that hand. I almost kicked another guy in the balls tonight."

"That was one way to get my attention." He smirked, his fingers reaching out to lightly brush against my thigh. I squeezed his wrist harder, he let out a charged breath. When I didn't reply he pulled back for a moment and gave me an incredulous stare, "you don't know who that first guy was, do you?"

"Does it matter?" I shrugged. He laughed,

"Not really I suppose. Let's just say he was a very famous, very married, footballer." He leaned toward me again and lightly bit my earlobe. I dug my nails into the wrist I was still holding, he groaned into my ear and then tacked on, "as well as your other actor boyfriend."

He couldn't stop himself from nuzzling his nose right behind my ear, breathing in the scent of my shampoo mixing with my sweat. He pulled back and we looked at each other, his eyes dark with lust, and I ordered,

"You're going to buy that blonde another drink." He nodded, licking his lips. "Then you're going to meet me in the hallway of the bathrooms."

"Why even bother with her?" He tried to touch me again and I dug my nails in deeper. He groaned loudly this time, swallowing hard and looked down at our hands. I leaned into him and said into his ear,

"Because it gets me off that she thinks she has a chance when we both know you're mine."

"Yes, I am," He obediently replied. I released his wrist and patted his cheek twice, smiling at him.

"Bottoms up." I inclined my head toward the group of girls. He adjusted himself under the bar, I bit my lip, excited, and then he left. I finished my drink just as he slid back into their circle of attention. They all looked at me and I gave them a little wave, locking eyes with Stellan. He ordered the drink and I stood grabbing my badass clutch on my way to the restroom.

The booze hit me immediately making my head swim. I teetered on my sandals for two steps and then shook my head and kept moving. Around me everything was getting blurry, the lights disorienting. The music had already started back up and was muted in my ears, the bass thumping into my chest. Around me, everyone looked like they were tilting sideways as they put metallic colored paper hats on each other. In the hallway, I saw two doors but it was so dark I couldn't tell which one was which. I opted for the closest one and locked it behind me.

When I turned back around I laughed to myself - it was the men's room. A counter with two sinks straight ahead, two stalls to my left, two urinals to my right. The lights above the counter were dim, the mirrors splotchy from water spots. Everything was varying degrees of this sand color. Hideous, in other words. I made my way over to a stall and set the protective paper before sitting down. As I was finishing up I took a look at my bright pink, lace, panties and the voice cackled in my head.

I'd already activated the kinky game Stellan and I liked to play by manhandling his wrist. The fact that he hadn't ignored me altogether and finished me off on the barstool meant he was just as interested in playing. Who was I kidding? He always wanted me to do that, but I was only able to drag it out of me when I was very wasted - I still hadn't quite owned that part of myself. Maybe I could combine my one-night stand fantasy with his submissive one and we could end this night perfectly. I nodded to myself as I sat on the toilet - it was an excellent plan.

I finished up, as I heard a knock, took my panties off and clenched them into a tiny ball in my fist. Then I remembered the Molly and opened the clutch pulling out the pills. I threw mine back immediately and kept the other pinched between my thumb and pointer finger holding the panties. The clutch fell to the ground but I was too wasted to care. It was just lipstick and cash.

I made my way over to the door and unlocked it coming face to face with Stellan. He looked absolutely wild, his eyes frantic, and pushed into the room. He spun around and locked the door again.

"Something wrong?" I laughed.

"Besides meeting some stranger in a men's bathroom? I drew a lot of attention waiting for you in the hallway." He grinned and then reached for me. I slapped his hand away backing up toward the sinks, biting my bottom lip.

"I thought you liked attention." I teased. He followed me across the floor, reaching for my hips again.

"You don't even know me." He smirked, mischief in his eyes.

"Oh, I know your type," I felt the counter against my back and leaned onto it looking up into his face. "You're the guy that wears a shirt so thin everyone can see your tattoos through it."

"Oh really?" He reached for my waist and I immediately smacked his hand away. He let out a charged breath and took a step closer. I put my palm on his chest, feeling the heat beneath it and smiled,

"You're the guy that has been buying drinks for another woman but is in this bathroom with me." I could feel his heart pick up against my hand. He took another step toward me and lowly rumbled,

"Because you told me too."

I looked up into his face, nodding as I slid my hand down toward his pants, "I like obedient men."

"Oh Jesus," he whispered and swayed before me, one hand gripping the counter to my left.

"How drunk are you?" I laughed, feeling my own veins flare with the dangerous level of vodka in me.

"I'm not drunk." He breathed. I yanked on his belt loop, pulling him toward me and giggled, far too inebriated to control myself now,

"Then what are you?"

He grabbed my wrist from his waist and pressed my hand over his hardness straining against his pants. "You know I like it when you're bossy."

"Then open your mouth," I ordered and he dropped my wrist and immediately complied, completely committed to our game. I plucked the Molly from my other hand and placed it on his tongue. Then I pressed my palm against his lips and used my thumb and pointer finger to squeeze his nose shut too. His eyes widened with panic, his hand gripped my wrist, hard, but he reflexively swallowed and then ripped my hand away.

"What was that?!" He demanded.

"It's just Molly, calm down." I brushed him off and then grabbed the top of his pants pulling him toward me again. "I know they're going to send someone to fetch us soon - and I want you to fuck me all night."

"I would have fucked you anyway." He frowned.

"Yes," I smiled up at him, running my hand down the length again, "but now you won't resist when I make you do filthy things to me."

He lifted me onto the counter and I unbuttoned his jeans. "The whole night?" He asked.

"You're not sleeping." I clarified for him, unzipping his pants and pushing them down until they fell to his ankles. He nodded and took a breath as if to reset himself. Then licked his lips and pushed my dress up my thighs as he moved toward me.

"What was your name again?" He teased, pulling himself out and stroking a little as he stared at me on the sink.

"Doesn't matter," I shrugged. "I'm never going to see you again."

"You so sure about that?" He his eyes raked over me on the counter. Just outside I could hear some disappointed groans when patrons saw the bathroom was locked.

"People need to get in here." I glanced over his shoulder, trying to hold onto the commanding persona I'd taken at the bar. It was hard to do when his eyes were that dark and predatory like he would actually devour me.

"Let them wait." He distractedly answered and ran his fingers up my inner thighs as he coaxed my legs further and further apart. I clenched my panties in my other hand, trying to remember what I wanted out of this. My fantasy, my desire fulfillment.

It would be easy to let Stellan do what he was obviously a pro at, I was already wet from it. But that's not what I'd wanted. What I wanted was to make a stranger cum so hard in a bathroom that he couldn't catch his breath - and just leave him there. Always wondering about that one girl...that one time. I reached down to stroke him myself, eyes widening at how hard he was.

"You like that?" He murmured at me and I nodded and started working my hand over his shaft just the way I knew he liked it. He groaned, letting his head hit my shoulder, "Avery."

"No names," I ordered, stroking him faster. He sucked in a big breath and looked into my face,

"Then what will you scream out when you're coming?" He asked in a tight voice, his hips bucking toward me as I ran my thumb over the head.

"Who said I was going to come?" I ran my thumb over the head again and he groaned louder this time. I scooched to the edge of the counter and then lifted him to my opening, he slid right in.

"Christ you're so wet," he growled and pressed deeper in, his hands wrapping around my waist so he could position me just how he wanted. Someone banged on the bathroom door and Stellan yelled toward it, "go the fuck away!"

I laughed a little and then rocked my hips along the counter until we'd maneuvered into a place where he could pound into me without the counter slowing him down. It meant the counter was now digging into the small of my back but it was so hot I didn't care. His lips came crashing down on my own, then ran sloppy along my neck, toward my chest. He was too worked up, so hard it was making me wince the deeper he'd go.

"You feel so good," he groaned into my chest.

"Shhh," I admonished him and he picked up the pace. I was starting to think of abandoning the plan, just giving up and letting myself explode with him in this dirty, poorly lit bathroom. But his hands started to shake a little around my hips and I knew he was very close.

"Oh fuck," he panted, "you're so tight. You like it don't you?"

"You talk too much," I snapped as he swelled inside me and then I leaned back and shoved my panties into his mouth. He tensed, let out a long, muffled groan against the fabric, and gave a few more disjointed pumps into me before falling to his knees on the ground. I pushed his head toward the counter so I could clear my leg and slid off the counter, body tingling with desire and the start of the Molly. I smoothed my dress down and tapped his head a few times,

"Thanks, stranger, that was fun."

He stayed there, panting and shuddering as I made my way toward the door, unlocked it and opened it to see a line of men who eyed me suspiciously at first and then bemused.

"I'd give him a minute," I said to the first guy and brushed past them all back to the bar. There was an explosion of laughter in my wake. I floated across the club high and so wasted I couldn't feel my feet. I stumbled a bit before finding an empty bar stool and slid into place.

The dance floor and standing tables area were crowded now. People were squeezing together and there was a buzz of excitement in the air as the music slowed to a stop. I went to order another drink but instead was handed a glass of champagne. Looking around the bar everyone seemed to have one. A few seats down from me the group of girls that Stellan had been flirting with eyed me suspiciously and spitefully, I think I even saw the bombshell mouth 'bitch' toward me. I laughed out loud at their glares, thrumming with this heady rush of accomplishment I'd never experienced before. I took a sip of the champagne and pulled my pendant out from under my dress. Removing the rings I could hear the DJ's muted voice behind me announcing things to the crowd, a roar of applause responded. Slipping the rings back on the entire crowd around me rose and turned toward the monitors at the DJ booth. I glanced as well and the bubble of laughter rose up through all the inebriation. It was New Years Eve. That explained all the cardboard hats and glitter everywhere. How had I not known that? How long had we been in the Maldives? The group started counting down in unison,

"10!"

I felt, more than saw, Stellan emerge from the bathroom. A static pulse filled the air and the whole bar area turned to look at him, flushed and undone, his eyes zeroed onto me.

"9!"

The scar on my arm erupted in teeth-clenching pain even with all the vodka and Molly.

"8!"

I carefully set my glass down and tried to cobble together some sort of plan. I had pushed this way too far. But I was so far gone, everything was spinning and darkening around the edges. I hoped he could hold it together long enough to get back to the villa.

"6!"

He tossed a clip of money at the bartender who caught it, mid-air, and then rose his hand above his head and let out a snap, the noise lost in the club, his eyes never leaving mine. Our security detail emerged from the shadows of the bar flanking him. He closed the space between us and shouted over the countdown,

"You are in big trouble, wifey."

All the unknowing participants in our experiment tonight were staring at us, frozen in confusion, while the rest of the club yelled out,

"4!"

He grabbed me off the barstool and threw me over his shoulder, the scar on my arm turned into agony as he struggled to control himself. Our security closed in rank around him as we quickly made our way toward the door but not before I caught the scandalized looks of everyone at the bar. Everything started to narrow down into darkness.

"2!"


	3. Chapter 2

My eyes shot open. Everything was blurry. The light - blinding. I tried to turn my head away. I can't move. My eyes wouldn't focus. Footsteps? My mind frantically clawed through the daze. Everything's spinning. I thought I heard a footstep. I'm sucked back into darkness.

* * *

I blink. Again. They're slow, it hard to do. I fight against the heavy pull of the blackness around my vision. Something's taped to my arm. Everything is so noisy. I try to breathe - pain. Everything hurts. Oh, Christ. I can't breathe. Panic starts to rise. My breaths are too short, it hurt too much, something is beeping, I tried to stop-

* * *

Beeping. Alarms. "Avery." Mumbles. Beeping. Scratching. Footsteps and shuffling. That's me, I want to say but nothing comes out. Tired. I was so tired. I frowned at it all and refused to open my eyes. My heavy head jostled as I felt someone adjust my pillow. I frowned again. The voice right next to me rose above the aggravating sounds,

"Go get him."

* * *

I opened my eyes, the motion difficult. Nothing looked familiar. Where am I? Focus. Low beeping. Hard bed. Scratchy comforter. I couldn't make sense of the pieces, my brain felt slow. I looked down at my chest and could make out a shirt with pale blue triangles and clear tubes. I struggled to focus on the plastic tube, finally putting together it was also on my face. I felt the cool air in my nose. Oxygen. I had oxygen on me? It felt like my body weighed a thousand pounds, pressing me as hard as it could into the bed. Someone was poking at me, I want to move away. I couldn't, it hurt too much to fight against it.

* * *

Fingers slid across my jaw until they could cup my cheek in a warm palm, I leaned into the touch. I felt someone move toward me, pressing a firm kiss to my forehead,

"Avery."

Stellan. I forced my eyes open, fighting against my body and squinted at him, unable to make my brain see him clearly. He was a blur of blond and dark blue, but I knew it was him. No one else in the world could say my name like that. Stellan. I blinked several more times, waiting each time for my vision to clear just a little bit more until it all settled and I stared directly into his eyes. His beautiful eyes. I blinked again. They looked relieved. I blinked again and he looked terrified. I stretched my fingers to grab him, keep him this close to me. I pushed at the tangle of wires and tubes, reaching for him. The sudden movement made my whole arm ache and a disorienting rush of thoughts started to bombard me. Something is wrong. My arm is on fire. This isn't my bed. This couldn't be my bed - I was in Egypt.

The monitor behind me started squawking at us. I felt hot, the sheets were smothering me, I wanted them off. Someone physically pulled him away from me and all the breath left my chest. Struggling in my bed my hands darted into empty air, reaching for him, but couldn't. The pain was blinding. I was so tired. So heavy. So confused. The mumbles around me started to rise, movement was happening around the edges and my whole body shuddered with exhaustion. I let myself slide back into the darkness.

* * *

Someone was rubbing hard against my collarbones. It hurt too much. I struggled against it.

"Avery," the voice ordered and I opened my eyes, overwhelmed by the number of strangers surrounding me now. I pressed into the bed, trying to get away, the motion made pings of pain ripple through my body. Then a swooning rush of dizziness pressed down on everything. I closed my eyes.

"Avery, can you hear us?"

They pushed and scrubbed at my collarbones again and I growled out,

"Stop." I tried to fight against the heaviness keeping me trapped in the bed.

"Look at me." A different voice ordered and I opened my eyes. "Good."

"Tell me your name." They ordered. I wasn't sure who was talking anymore. My eyes struggled to focus, someone adjusted the blood pressure cuff on my right arm, it squeezed me too tightly. I groaned,

"Avery."

"Do you know where you are?" The same voice demanded. The cuff squeezed tighter and I let out a whimper of pain. The darkness pulled at the back of my mind again and I fought against it.

"Egypt."

A mummer moved through the crowd. The blood pressure cuff relented and I closed my eyes with relief. The world spun, my stomach flipped, my arm ached, I floated closer to the darkness.

"Stay with us," was the rough order with a sharp poke at my big toe.

"Stop it," I tried to pull my foot away but it made the exhaustion pull me closer to unconsciousness.

"What year is it Avery?"

"So tired," I answered back.

* * *

Fingers slowly slid through my hair, pressing into my scalp on their trek. I knew those fingers. I smiled. His hand stopped and then made another pass as he said,

"Can you open your eyes?"

This time when I did I could make out more around me. I was in a hospital bed. Stellan was as close as he could get without actually being in the bed with me, pressed against the rail. Everything beyond Stellan was still blurry, but I could make out a mass of white and blue. Doctors. We were surrounded by doctors. Even with his fingers running a regular pattern across my hairline I felt the panic build again. I scooted a little toward him. Burning needles shot down my arm. I could actually see it for the first time, awkwardly I turned it over, palm up and couldn't comprehend what was there. Red. My whole left arm had some strange red pattern.

"What's wrong?" He immediately asked. I looked down at my arm and he nodded, swallowing hard. The noise in the room dipped into silence almost immediately. I felt all the eyes on me even if I couldn't see them. "Your arm?"

I nodded as best I could. He clenched his jaw, palm cupping the back of my head as he paused, and then he looked up at the line of quiet doctors.

"We should run some tests," one of them said.

And then they were pulling him away from me again. His fingers were sliding through the length of my hair as he let them guide him further and further away. I felt a shuddering sob build in my chest and tried to say something but it died at the back of my throat. Instead, I closed my eyes and drifted back into the safety of the darkness.

* * *

This time when I slowly woke to his fingers raking through my hair it was easier to open my eyes. Silence. Finally, the incessant beeping was gone. My room was quiet. My body was lighter, but I was incredibly dizzy. I shifted on the bed and felt a sharp sting on my left arm. Opening my eyes I looked down at my arm expecting it to be better but it was still covered in that red pattern.

Glancing up at Stellan I wondered which one of us looked worse. His shirt was wrinkled, dark bags hung under his eyes, his usually perfectly messed hair just looked messy, he swayed a bit on his feet and leaned heavily against the bed rail. He must have spent the night here. Letting his fingers run lightly down my body to rest on my knee we let the quiet calm wrap around us.

"You know who I am?" He asked, his voice cracking a little. I nodded and attempted to speak, it just made me cough instead. His hand closed around my knee in worry but I shook my head and then looked over at the pink plastic container next to me. He took a heavy step toward it and shook out some ice chips for me into a small paper cup. With precise carefulness, he knocked a few past my lips and I closed my eyes in relief as it immediately melted into my parched mouth.

I cleared my throat and my rough voice crackled, "what happened?"

Stellan leaned toward me, his warm palm running down my leg as he attempted to find the best way to explain it. Down the hall I could hear a commotion, people moving toward our room, muffled conversations all in English. That couldn't be right, it should be Arabic. I looked up and he frowned before whispering,

"You've been in a coma for two weeks. We're in London now."

"What?" I shook my head trying to comprehend, but it only made my skull pound. I struggled to move, my body still uncooperative and awkward. I shifted enough that my arm flexed and it was like it'd been held to a blow torch. I let out a groan of pain and glared at it but my stupid eyes wouldn't focus. The anger pulsed through my veins. The annoying beeping returned. Alarms rang loudly behind me. Stellan's hand flexed on my blanket covered thigh and then there was a quick zap to my leg.

"Ow!" I moved away from him, my leg still stinging from the static shock.

He pulled his hands away instantaneously. The motion making the cup of ice spread wide across the floor. Quickly wheeling backward from the bed I heard some of the chips crunch under his boots.

"I'm so sorry." His voice was barely louder than a whisper. He shoved his hands into his jean pockets and continued to back away from me. The alarms kept ringing. I squinted at him still wanting to see him clearly, but he was too far away now. I caught the anxious roll of his shoulders before the room overflowed with doctors. They circled my bed, examining things on their phones, looking at the readouts from my monitors and then poking at me. I attempted to look around them at Stellan, needing him to be here with me, needing him to tell me what the hell was going on. But it was just a wall of white lab coats. I couldn't think clearly with everyone in here, with these damn machines going off. Why won't someone shut them up? Finally one of the doctors' voices broke through the noise,

"I don't like these readouts on the EKG. Give her the ketamine."

"Stell…" I called out to him but it cut off with a cough in my dry throat. A nurse adjusted all my wires as I saw Stellan move toward me, hands still shoved firmly in his jean pockets. Before I could reach out to touch him one of the white coat mob cornered him,

"You're the husband, right?"

"Umm...yes." He glanced at me, worried.

"We need to talk."

I tried to listen to what he was telling Stellan as they stepped out of the room. Then tried to read his lips as if I knew how, but I felt a slight burn in my right arm and then warmth flood over me. I looked up and the nurse smiled and walked away as I struggled to keep my eyes open.

* * *

The cheering from the crowd woke me up followed immediately by the music from some game show. I pressed harder into my pillow trying to tune it out. I still felt too horrible to be awake. My mom must have kept the TV on when she left this morning. No. No, no, no.

It flooded back to me in panicking waves. My eyes shot open and I struggled to sit, eyes darting around the bright room. My mom was dead. I wasn't home. I could never go home. I reached for my locket, grabbing at air, and the pain was overwhelming. It burned up and down my entire arm, it spread into my chest and I sucked in a breath, holding it as the panic built. I didn't have my locket. I'd given it to someone - blonde...small...Anya. She swam in front of my vision, her tiny fist clenching the locket, and I exhaled. The monitors behind me started to beep again and I turned to squint at them as a blurry figure moved into the room.

It wasn't Stellan. The panic spiked into my chest. I frantically looked around for him in this unfamiliar room. It was a woman, she cautiously moved to the side of my bed,

"Everything alright, dear?"

Her British accent was jarring to me. But her kind eyes made me feel a little calmer.

"Where am I?" I demanded, my voice breaking a little. "Where's Stellan?"

"He'll be back in a moment." She gave me a cautious smile. The frustration built in my chest. I ran my right hand over my aching left shoulder. My whole arm still burned, the pain radiating up and down every nerve ending on the left side of my body. Taking a few more steps toward me she glanced at my monitors and then closed the space carefully adjusting the covers at my feet. "Do you remember your name? Where you are?"

"Avery," I barked, irritated and starting to feel sweaty and itchy but I didn't know why. "I'm in London. But I don't know why or even how."

"You were brought here almost a month ago. You'd been in a terrible accident." She filled in a blank and my hand automatically slid from my throbbing shoulder down to my heart.

Accident? What accident? And then the memory exploded in brilliant technicolor. The hot, dusty morning air. The snap of the tarp above us. The sound of the bullet thudding into Luc's chest next to me. The look of surprise on his face. The blood. So much blood. I pulled my hands to my lap and looked at them expecting to see them painted in it.

"Luc," I whispered to my hands and then snapped my head back up to the woman. "Is Luc alive? Oh my god - are we the only ones that survived? Where is Anya? Is Anya okay?"

"Calm down, Avery." She eyed me warily and darted her eyes to my monitor. It pissed me off, she didn't know me, she didn't know what had happened. I needed answers. I could still remember the blood seeping through my fingers as I pressed down onto Luc's chest, the look of horror on Anya's face. My monitors were thrumming behind me, the blood pressure cuff started to squeeze my right arm and I pulled at it.

"Avery, you need to keep that on. Please stay calm!" The woman warned, moving toward me. I struggled with the velcro making my painfully stiff fingers awkwardly pull at it feebly. It sent zaps of pain up and down my arm, I was getting nowhere, the pressure building in the cuff. I shifted in the nurse's hands.

"I hate it! Get it off me!" I yelled at her, panic starting to make me pant, the cuff squeezed harder, the room spun a little as my chest felt tighter with every squealing beep behind me. The nurse carefully pried my injured hand off the pressure cuff despite my struggle.

"You have to calm down, Avery. I need you to breathe," she ordered. I tried to shake free and her hand brushed across all my fingers. No. Not all of them. I couldn't feel the ring finger. I swung my strangled right arm toward the left, my tingling fingers from the pressure cuff reaching for the numb one.

"What's wrong with my finger?" I was breathless as the panic continued to build.

The nurse pushed a button behind my head and then put a firm hand on my shoulder, pushing me back into the bed as she adjusted the cuff with her other hand. She ignored me and my pitiful struggles against her as her eyes ran over all my readouts. Glancing at my arm again she frowned and said,

"It's from your accident."

"What accident?!" I yelled at her and then groaned as the blood pressure cuff squeezed me harder. "God make it stop!"

"You have to calm down, Avery. We need to get an accurate reading." She continued to hold me down and I felt a rush of tears build behind my eyes. Angry, scared, panicked tears that made my voice thick and my throat tight,

"Stop saying my name! You don't know me!"

The cuff finally released it's death grip on my arm the same moment the tears started to slip down my face. I closed my eyes, crying as I pinched the tip of my numb ring finger. There were three loud stomps near my door and then,

"_Kuklachka_."

I shot my head up, sucking in a hitched breath, watching as he stormed across the room.

"Mr. Korolov she's fine." The nurse pacified, glancing behind him at the building crowd at my door.

"She doesn't look fine to me," he barked at her and even I winced at his intensity. He pushed his way in between myself and the nurse and wave after wave of relief flooded me, making the tears come back for an entirely different reason. A doctor entered the room, the group behind him still hanging at the door and offered in a soothing tone,

"I'm sure everything is fine, but we should run some…"

Stellan cut right over him,

"No more tests. Everyone get out of this room."

I wiped at my eyes, sure I was seeing this wrong. Everyone was leaving. The door shut behind the nurse and Stellan shook his fists out at his sides for a good ten seconds before turning around to face me.

"Are you okay _lyubov' moya_?" He asked. His eyes poured over me, detailing my tears and my hands in my lap, his fingers tapping anxiously against his jeans. I had to know. Dread flooded my already tender stomach as I hiccuped and wiped at my face,

"Is Luc…"

Confusion made his eyebrows furrow as he continued to wait for me to finish. But I couldn't finish the sentence. If I voiced it out loud and he…

"Oh," he quickly said, his face dropping into realization. "Luc is alive. He's fine. Already trying to figure out a way to escape France and stay with us."

The tears flooded me again making my eyes burn. I blinked them away and looked deep into his waiting eyes,

"And Anya?" I choked out.

He smiled, nodded, reached forward and hesitated for a moment before swiping his thumb across my cheek to wipe away the tears. "Everyone is fine."

"Everyone but me," I thickly replied. He exhaled and closed the space between us, his hand slipping to the back of my neck as he pulled me toward him a little and dropped a kiss onto the crown of my head. I looked down at my battered left arm resting limply in my lap. The branching, connecting thin red lines were even on my palm. But stopped at the base of my numb ring finger. Where my rings were. No. Where my rings should be. Oh no. Where are my rings?

I felt the panic override all the lingering tears in my chest and heard the monitors behind me pick up again. His thumb ran lightly up and down behind my ear as he started to breathe soothing sounding Russian phrases into my hair, but it wasn't helping. I felt his face turn a little and knew he had to be looking at the monitors, just like the nurse had. They were making me a horrible liar and I didn't appreciate the disadvantage.

"_Kuklachka_?" He asked my hair. The incessant beeping picked up more. But I was panicking. I'd lost his mother's ring. I wouldn't even know where to start looking for it. You couldn't just replace something like that with another diamond.

"What's wrong?" He pulled back, resting his arms on the bed rail so he could stay close enough for me to see him.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. He rose an eyebrow at me in question, waiting. I tried to flex my ring finger again, both our eyes moving to my injured hand. "I lost your mother's ring."

Without hesitation, he reached into his front pocket and pulled something out. Resting his wrist on the bed rail he flipped his palm upward and unraveled his long fingers revealing the two rings. The tears brimmed over again, spilling down my face and I struggled to take a breath.

"They had to cut them off you, to save the finger." He jostled them a little in his palm. "I had them reset in case you…"

He trailed off. I hastily wiped at my face with the back of my right hand as I looked up through my blurry vision at his nervous, forced, small smile. I nodded, unconditionally believing him. Even if I couldn't remember anything after Luc's blood on my hands. He slid the rings onto the pointer finger of his left hand, his own ring catching in the overhead light above us. My heart hurt. Too much panic and relief at once. Too much love for the person anxiously shifting his weight as he leaned against my hospital bed.

"Yes." I used my right hand to help raise the left with a grimace. He reached forward and guided both back down.

"Yes?" He quietly asked. I was confused by his hesitation. I looked at his bowed head until he met my own eyes, knowing he could see every emotion in them. Everything but his relief melted away and he gently grabbed my right hand and slid the rings on. I slumped with exhaustion, my body not able to handle this much activity. Squeezing his fingers as best I could I closed my eyes and immediately felt his lips at my rings, my forehead, my hair as he murmured,

"Until you're better."

* * *

Beige. All but one of the walls were that horrible beige color that was neither yellow nor brown. It reminded me of every single apartment we'd ever lived in. Of course, there was the light blue accent wall my bed and all my equipment were on. I supposed that was supposed to break up all the soul-crushing beige. Or maybe the fake wood patterned laminate floors were meant to uplift me. Not that it mattered, they all clashed with the hunter green chairs on either side of the TV mounted on the wall. As well as the dark brown vinyl pull out couch that I never saw Stellan actually sleep on. But none of that was all that unsettling. It was the flowers. We'd started donating them to other patients and the nurse's desks on each floor. We'd run out of room. The longer I stayed here the more of an influx of them there were. Some small little carnation bouquets, others elaborate arrangements filled with orchids and twisting branches. The smell was cloying, I could almost taste it. They were all from strangers. That's all that filled my life now. Strangers that circled around me in patterns.

There was the thin and waspy nurse that jabbed her cold fingers into me every hour, her mumbles and clicks of her tongue the only communication we ever had. Then my PT girl, bouncy and effervescent as she absolutely tortured me to the point of tears every day. I would have never imagined flexing my fingers would make me dissolve into a sweaty sobbing ball - but she made me do it with a smile on her face the whole time. Of course, there was also the ever-changing roll call of specialists that continued to run test after test on me. I was quite the anomaly and needed to be studied - pinned to my bed like a butterfly in a case.


	4. Chapter 3

Breaking glass. Gunfire. My eyes shot open and I sucked in a surprised breath. Dramatic music. Then someone said,

"_Come out to the coast, we'll get together, have a few laughs…"_

Bruce Willis. Bruce Willis was saying that because they were playing _Die Hard_ for what felt like the 15th time on the Film4 channel. I smacked around my sheets with my good hand until I found the remote and turned it off. Then pushed my glasses back up from the bottom of my nose - a necessary evil as my eyes recovered. I'd been denied my request for contacts but honestly, anything was better than only seeing a few inches in front of my face. My gaze fell onto the couch where Stellan had nodded off again. Sitting up. They swapped out the off-white sheet and light green fuzzy blanket for a fresh one every single day, but he never unfolded them. Instead, he'd sink deeper into the fake leather couch until his head would lull to one side and then snap back to awake. Which he was about to do any minute now.

I watched as his tense frame finally relaxed, his hair sliding out from behind his ear, his head slowly tipping to the left, as his crossed arms released their hold. One boot started to slide along the highly waxed floor as he fell deeper asleep. His head touched the back of the couch and he sprang awake, arms clenching across his chest, eyes flying wide and landing on me first. I was always the last and first thing he had his eyes on when his body would make him sleep. He cleared his throat and readjusted himself into position on the couch.

"You turned the TV off?" He asked, voice still raspy.

"Yippie-ki-yay." I flatly replied.

He arched an eyebrow in acknowledgment and then promptly started to yawn. I stared at him. It was all I was really allowed to do. He never came close enough for me to touch. The longer I'd been able to stay awake the further he'd moved from my bed.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, his eyes darting to my monitors for a flash of a second. They didn't even have the sound turned up anymore, I was in the clear, just finishing up some final tests. But it had become this sort of tick with him. I decided to ignore his pointless question.

"You can sleep in my bed you know." I offered, for the fifth time.

"I'm not ti…" he started to say and I cut over him.

"My tormenter will be here in a couple minutes. You should just take a nap while I'm at PT." I said, keeping my eyes directly on him. The afternoon light was filling the room, backlighting all his hair like a halo around his head. An exhausted, restrained, neurotic angel. His phone buzzed in his pocket but he didn't look away. Jack and Elodie were always bothering him with this or that. I never knew what it was because he'd wave it off. He only dealt with them when I was either in PT or asleep. Today would be no different.

Except that as we both heard someone coming down the hall to my room his eyes moved to my pillows and his mouth scrunched in contemplation. I swung my legs over the side of my bed and then slowly lowered myself to the floor, the sticky part of my hospital grade slide proof socks immediately suctioning to the ground. I managed all my cords, gathering them in my hand as I took a few steps toward my mobile station and leaned against it. I hated that I couldn't go long distances without this as a crutch, but getting out of this godforsaken room was progress and I'd take it, no matter how small. I patted the bed rail a few times, the rings on my right hand clanging against the metal, and offered a final time,

"It's pretty uncomfortable, but anything's got to be better than that couch."

"I'll be fine." He said, flashing that horrible Circle smile he'd use when he was trying to convince people of something. I couldn't stop the frown. His smile faltered, he ran some shaky fingers through his hair and then my PT girl appeared in the doorway,

"Ready, Avery?"

I slowly made my way across the room, already panting by the time I made it to the door jamb. She leaned into the room and waved goodbye to Stellan as I glanced over my shoulder expecting his piercing blue eyes on me. Just like every day they were watching me leave, I just wasn't expecting them to look so upset.

* * *

Rebecca, my PT specialist, was chatting animatedly as we slowly trudged back to my room after my allotted 45 minutes of torture. She was going on about some kind of event coming up she had tickets for. Honestly, I barely heard most of what she said on these walks back every day. I was always trying to stop myself from crying - again. I'd cry at the beginning of the session because it was so fucking painful to make my arm and fingers move the way they were supposed to, especially now that they'd taken all my narcotics away. Eventually, they would start to yield and then I'd get teared up with frustration at how slowly this was going. Over a week of this torment, every day and I could still barely curl my fingers into a fist. Then, insult to injury, I'd have to fight back tears of exhaustion on these walks back. Because it was double PT. Walking back and forth to what everyone else was wheeled to was entirely for my weak heart's benefit. I almost always dissolved into a ball of tears on my bed until I passed out every afternoon.

"...will be interesting to see the variations we can do at your home in two days."

The tears dried up immediately on that line. I stopped in the hall, leaning against the wall and turned to her,

"Two days?"

"They haven't told you?" She smiled, her ponytail bouncing as she shifted her weight. I shook my head and tried to catch my breath. Ahead of us, three doors down, I saw a man in a charcoal suit leave my room, handing over two containers to a nurse in the hall with a smile before turning and leaving. "I wonder what it is today."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked Rebecca focusing on the man's back hoping his nondescript suit would give me some kind of indication of who he was. No one, and I mean no one, was allowed to come to my room. Even Jack and Elodie had been barred from it. Unless you were on the very small list of approved doctors and nurses you couldn't even get into this part of the hospital.

"Consider yourself lucky." She brightly replied and then leaned a little toward me to drop her voice and add, "no one should eat the food here."

I nodded but couldn't say anything, partly because I was still a little winded, but mostly I was battling the anger churning in the pit of my stomach. How much more did 'Sadist Rebecca' know then I did? She gave me a couple pats on the back and turned to go, leaving me the last few rooms to traverse on my own. I was glad to see her leave and shuffled down the hall until I was right at the door jamb, hesitating to regroup when Stellan's voice filled the quiet,

"We can talk about this tomorrow." He paused, I heard his boots squeak against the floors as he paced. Then he stopped, inhaled an angry breath and snapped, "watch your tone."

That wasn't good. He'd started pacing again, his back to me, taking deep breaths and violently shaking his left hand to the point that I wondered if he was about to sprain it. A tremble of worry flared in my stomach. Stellan didn't really have a tell. Since I'd met him, only a couple months ago, I'd never known if something was bothering him. Very rarely I'd catch his fingers shaking as he'd comb through his hair, or he'd leave to smoke, but nothing like this. It's was as if he was always on the verge of some kind of explosion. But we never talked about it, he always brushed me off. I'm sure today was no different.

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked, carefully and clearly, trying not to startle him. He spun around, detailing me from head to toe before forcing a smile and shaking his head. His eyes lingered on my cheeks, still splotchy from all my PT induced tears, and his fingers twitched at his side. I suppose he did have one tell - those idle fingers of his. I dreamed about them now, how they felt through my hair, wrapping around my waist, brushing across my collarbones. I was afraid if I didn't dream about them I'd start to forget what they felt like. He shoved his hands into his pockets and I tried to push down my disappointment.

Just looking at him suddenly made me feel exhausted. It could have also been that I was usually asleep by now but I didn't have it in me to make it all the way back to the bed. I sat down on his couch with a sigh, arranging all my cords and monitor next to me, settling down into the indent he'd managed to wear into the fabric. For a split second, I considered ordering him to sit next to me, if only to ensure I didn't fall over when I fell asleep. He'd become overly cautious about my safety, having orderlies double and triple check my equipment, and then check it again himself once they left. It was too confusing for my exhausted mind to piece together every day. How could he be so obviously worried about my well being and safety and yet keep treating me like I had leprosy?

Leaning back against the creaking fake leather my hair tie dug right into the back of my skull. I let out a growl of frustration. I couldn't take a nap on this uncomfortable couch with an extra annoyance like that. Stellan slid right in front of me, eyes widening with worry at the sound.

"What's wrong?" He anxiously asked. I opened my mouth to complain about my hair when inspiration hit. My hair. He could fix my hair. Most likely poorly - but I'd take it. The logical part of my brain immediately tried to turn the idea down, he didn't even offer me a hand to the bathroom anymore. But this fluttering hope buoyed by a deep physical need lifted me past all that worry. I met his eyes, holding for a beat, and then went for it,

"Can you fix my ponytail?"

"You...what?" His initial confusion soon sank into worry. So maybe I wasn't as sly as I thought. But this would be a very frivolous thing to bring a nurse in for - especially since everyone but Sadist Rebecca made a point of calling me Mrs. Korolov. He could do his _wife's_ hair. I decided to press him.

"It's almost impossible for me to do it with my hand still…" I flipped it over, knowing it was a bit of a low blow. He could barely stand to look at my scar for more than a few seconds whenever they'd examine it. Sliding his hands out of his pockets he crossed them over his chest, eyeing my arm before countering,

"I don't think I'd do a very good job."

"You're trying to tell me you've never done Anya's hair?" I challenged. A little smile tugged at the side of his face and he shook his head,

"What do you think I pay these nanny's for?"

"Your hair is getting kinda long, it will be good practice." I tried again. Surprise crossed his face and he relaxed a bit, dropping his arms as he ran his eyes over my ponytail.

"Are you saying you'd prefer me with longer hair?"

"That's not what I said." I immediately replied. A little chuckle made his whole chest move and I clarified, "I think they have a barber here. You should take the twenty minutes and get it cut."

"You think a haircut like this takes twenty minutes?" He joked and my heart started to expand with hope in my chest.

"Oh right," I smiled up at him. "I bet your stylist is only open once a month and goes by a single name."

"It's Rand." He smiled back down at me and my whole body started to thrum with anticipation. "You're not going to let this go are you?"

I slowly shook my head, never letting my eyes leave his own, our smiles growing on our faces the longer we looked at each other. Finally conceding he nodded and moved around the couch to stand behind me. I quickly reached up with my good hand and ripped the brown hair tie out of my messy ponytail. A few strands caught in my haste but I ignored the pain and took in a deep breath, rolled my shoulders and waited.

Behind me Stellan had stopped breathing, only the ambient noise of the hospital far away from my room broke the tension. Then, without warning, I heard him shake out his hands violently again before he exhaled and drug his fingers through the bottom of my tangled mess. All the air left me with a woosh and my eyes instantly closed as he went for a second pass. He was so gentle, so careful and slow that it made every strand reverberate this tickling pull all the way up to my scalp. An involuntary rush of goosebumps flooded my skin and I pressed my lips together so I didn't let out some kind of embarrassing noise that would stop him.

His palms brushed against my ears as he tried to gather it all into both his hands, the goosebumps slowly fading away. Then he shifted all my hair into one hand and I felt his warm palm smooth against the back of my neck all the way up into the nape, catching all the strands he'd missed. I was undone. I was sure the monitor next to me would have made the nurses worried about how erratic it'd become because my heart felt fluttery and fast in my chest. It was as if everything inside me was tensing and condensing, preparing for some kind of release. I realized I hadn't taken a breath back in, and sucked the air in through my nose so it wouldn't sound like a gasp. His hands stilled behind me,

"Here?" His voice was quiet and low and a flash of goosebumps raced across me again. What was wrong with me? He was just doing my hair, I shouldn't be swooning this hard. But it had been so long since he'd touched me, and I was so sick of all the prodding, cold, calculated hands of my medical team. I needed this, I needed him - his warm, careful, firm touch. I needed more.

"Higher," I answered back. He slid his hold to the crown of my head and then started back to work. His fingers raking against my scalp to adjust the new position, and then that warm palm against my neck that made me shiver. His hands stopped,

"Are you cold?"

I pressed my lips together for a second, trying to calm myself but it still came out all breathy,

"No."

He was the one to exhale this time, and then I felt his fingers slowly run down the length of one of my pink highlight.

"Do you have the..._rezinka_...the…" he stuttered, his slip into Russian making this pinch of adoration twist in my chest. I held up the hair tie for him but held on tight, not ready for this to be over. He pulled on it, stretching it between us with a laugh. "_Kuklachka_."

His laugh made me smolder further, it was far too sexy a sound for this sterile hospital room. His phone buzzed once, then again, then again. A call. I felt him grip my hair tighter in his fist and a swell of lust I was sure he hadn't intended to create rolled through me. He set his phone face down next to me as my blush bloomed across my chest and then started to tie off my hair pretty quickly. As soon as he finished his work he picked the phone back up right as footsteps broke apart all our quiet. I spun in my seat to look at him, still feeling the heat on my cheeks, but he was already concentrating on his phone. The same nurse I'd seen earlier walked in dropping off the boxes of food that had been delivered and surveying me on the couch with a happy smile.

"Feeling better today, Mrs. Korolov?" She brightly asked. I ran a hand over my bright red chest and shrugged. Stellan was already halfway out the door, putting his phone to his ear. He looked over at the two of us, his eyes narrowing at all my flushing before he curtly ordered,

"She couldn't even make it to her bed. Can you move her after her lunch?" He didn't even wait for a reply and turned from us to leave. But not before I heard him say, "_da, Anya_?"

I deflated. I barely paid attention to the nurse as she futzed around the room, setting up a table for me to eat, pouring me a cup of water and turning on the television. _Die Hard_. Suddenly, I wasn't hungry anymore.

* * *

"Next we need you to sign," the nurse shifted the papers in her hand next to me and the noise caught me off guard. A deafening high pitched buzz overtook anything I could hear in my right ear, the one closest to her, and I squeezed my eyes tightly and tilted my head a little to try and stop it. Tinnitus. Between the head trauma, the electrocution and all the gunfire that Stellan and Jack had blasted off right next to my head during our search for the tomb it was inevitable. I was lucky that it wasn't a constant dull hum in my ear, which had been a very real possibility, but these short unexpected bursts were disorienting every time they happened.

I could hear muffled questions around me as I struggled through the discomfort. Suddenly, just as quickly as it had started, it started to taper off and I sighed with relief on my hospital bed and opened my eyes. Both the nurse and Stellan were radiating anxiety and I forced a tight smile,

"My ear." I offered and shoved a finger into it, wiggling it around as if tugging on it would help the last of the effects wear off. Stellan nodded and opened his mouth to say something when his phone buzzed again.

"What now?" He snapped at the caller and turned to leave us. It'd been like that all morning. I sighed and focused back on the nurse.

"You were saying?"

"Just need you to sign these discharge papers and then I can help you change and cut all these bracelets off." She smiled and pulled over the small table connected to my bed for meals.

"You're sure he doesn't need to sign anything?" I glanced over her shoulder at Stellan who was still barking off orders into his phone as he paced outside in the hallway.

"No," she glanced at him as well and then a peculiar smile pulled across her face. It seemed slightly smug to me, but I couldn't tell why. She composed herself and said, "once you were deemed in full faculty there isn't much he's legally allowed to mandate anymore."

Ah, so that's what the smile was about. Hearing some sharply toned order on the other side of the wall I was 100% sure the hospital was ready to get rid of us. I signed the mountain of papers where she pointed at and then spun my diamond around my right ring finger.

Sadist Rebecca had told me yesterday that I could move the rings if I liked. There wasn't much left that could damage my finger more than it already was. She'd joked that I just needed to keep track of them more than a normal person would because I wouldn't feel if they fell off. Not that they would, Stellan had sized them perfectly, but the anxiety of thinking I'd lost them the first time continued to make me pause.

As I watched the nurse slowly look over all the paperwork and then carefully go through my file I shifted toward the edge of the bed. The clothes that Elodie had sent over were stacked neatly in the bathroom for me. I had been expecting something complicated and couture but Elodie had, apparently, been feeling merciful and had sent over black leggings and a white boat neck long sleeved tunic that had thin navy horizontal lines. It was comfortable yet somehow also classy when you factored in the black flats. I'd already been disconnected from my monitor so I assumed I could easily do this task on my own.

"Hold on," the nurse ordered, still looking at the paperwork. "I'll assist you in a moment."

I suppressed the urge to groan in frustration. This had been a painfully slow process. It had started at 8 AM and we were now well past lunch. If we stayed here any longer I was sure Stellan would start accosting the staff. I carefully pulled my rings off and started to slide them onto the correct finger.

"Sorry," Stellan announced to the room as he re-entered. His cheeks were a little flushed and he was shaking out his left fist again as he moved toward us. I looked down and adjusted the rings, marveling at how odd it was. I knew I had a finger, I knew exactly where it was, but I couldn't feel anything from the tip of it down to the base. I tapped on the fatty part of the palm of my hand, feeling the thump against the skin, and then moved it up only a few millimeters onto the rings and tapped again - nothing. I didn't like it. It always made this welling of nausea form in the pit of my stomach to know some part of me was so deadened it might as well have been amputated.

Stellan stopped in front of me and stayed quiet. I tapped the knuckle and sighed with disappointment as he clenched his fists and then shoved them into his pockets. Elodie had sent over clothes for him too. It was a vast improvement from the constant wrinkled mess he'd stayed in here. A tight, black t-shirt to match his tight, dark jeans, paired with blindingly bright white Adidas sneakers, and Ray Bands he tucked into the collar of his shirt. He'd even managed to wrangle his hair back into his usual, albeit slightly longer, style. He looked like himself if you weren't paying attention. But I was. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes were distant and the hands...his constantly shaking hands. The nurse banged my folder loudly on the counter, adjusting all the paper, startling both of us.

"Shall we?" She asked and offered a hand to me toward the bathroom.

"Can't I do it myself?" I looked at the two of them. The immediate reply of no was barely held back as they both pressed their lips together. The nurse forced a nod and Stellan's phone started buzzing again. I took the opening and slowly started backing toward the bathroom, their eyes still on me. With a frown, Stellan answered the phone.

"What?" He barked and then closed his eyes for a moment trying to contain himself before grumbling, "Luc, I don't have time for this."

I slid into the bathroom and closed the door as Stellan started arguing in French with Luc. My elation about my privacy was short lived though - I was having a very rough time with my bra. I struggled with it, attempting to make my hand work in the way I'd always put it on before but all it made me do was wince and start to sweat from the pain. My mood darkened and I gave up. I was well enough to leave, but still not able to care for myself with even this basic task. I pressed my ear to the door first and did not hear Stellan cursing at Luc so I poked my head out to survey the room. My nurse was standing there, smiling brightly, as her eyes took me in knowingly. She ducked in without comment and made quick work of assisting me, but her eyes lingered on the scars a moment too long. They always did. Every white coat doctor, every colorful scrubs nurse, every visiting specialist. Their eyes always asked the same two questions - how did this happen to you, and more importantly, why am I not allowed to ask?

"It's a bit warm today, I hope these long sleeves won't be uncomfortable." The nurse lightly commented as she gathered my scrubs and gave me an arm so I could slip into the flats. I looked at myself in the mirror and exhaled slowly. This was it. Once she cut these bracelets off I was free. I held out my right arm to her and she pulled out her scissors from her side pocket.

"Doesn't matter." I diplomatically replied. I'd be going from one air-conditioned building to the next. More importantly, she didn't need to know why I was wearing long sleeves, though it wasn't too hard to figure out. With one snip the bracelets were off, tossed into the trash and we exited the bathroom at the same time to a room full of people. A couple doctors, another nurse and an orderly holding a waiting wheelchair were surrounding an annoyed looking Stellan. His eyes softened as he took me in, but then his phone buzzed again and he shook out his left fist before pulling his sunglasses off his shirt and handing them over,

"You'll need these."

* * *

It was an absolute bombardment of yelling and flashes. It was blinding, even with the sunglasses. Since they weren't prescription everything was blurry to the point of disorientation. I couldn't see anything, let alone make out where we were going. But I didn't need to see to know that the press was covering every inch of space they were allowed to outside the hospital. The clicking of their shutters reminded me of the cicadas swarms in the south during the summer. Confounding and ominous. The sounds got underneath my skin making it crawl. I just wanted to get out of there. But the orderly, who had to be just barely older than Stellan, was taking his sweet ass time in the handoff to my driver. I swore he even angled me a little toward the masses, probably so he could make the front page. The driver parked my wheelchair and when I tried to get up on my own I felt him and Stellan immediately grab me under my armpits and lift. The moment I was tucked into the car Stellan's hands let go. It was the first time he had really touched me in almost two weeks. The sensation felt strange yet familiar, but also disappointing. He couldn't release me fast enough.

As he slid into the seat on the left of me, a plush, leather armrest divider between us, I stared at the side of his face and felt the swelling of tears, unexpected and unwanted fill my eyes. It was confusing, I hadn't cried once in front of him in my room. But now that we were out of the hospital and almost completely alone I couldn't stop the reaction. I couldn't control it either, it was as if my mind was operating outside my control. I leaned forward and pressed the button to raise the privacy partition and turned to him. Too worried to lie, too desperate to hint around it, my wobbly voice pleaded,

"Why won't you touch me?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands so I couldn't see them, his shoulders and biceps flexing with the same intensity of his jaw as he looked out his window at the jostling, fevered crowd held back behind barricades. The silence between us held for a beat, then another. Until he finally released his left hand from its self-inflicted restraint and carefully ran his pointer finger from the top of my bicep down toward my rings. It was the same length as my scar, the ugly, branching, vividly red parting gift from the tomb.

He lifted his finger, his ring catching in the afternoon light filtering through the windows, and tucked his hand back into its hiding spot lowly saying,

"I don't trust myself."

The car accelerated shifting me slightly in my seat. I cradled my damaged arm in my lap turning away from him toward my own heavily tinted window. My stomach clenched with worry as tears started to roll down my cheeks with every blink. This was bad. This was monumentally bad. From the moment I'd met him, Stellan had always known when and where and how to touch me. If he couldn't anymore could that mean his half of our mandate had been quite literal? Did that mean he couldn't control it? My mind swam with all the questions I was too afraid to ask.

We continued to sit there, in silence, my occasional sniffle making him shift uncomfortably in my peripheral vision. The last thing I wanted was to go from one prison to another but where else would we go? Could we even go? My whole destiny was waiting for me, the spoils of winning this war against my family had been prepared for my arrival. Not that any of it made me feel like a victor. I actually felt worse now than I ever had at the hospital.

As the car waited for the ornate, jet black, steel gates to open at the Saxon manor I put a hand on my chest feeling like I'd just finished running. Panic. I needed to calm down, my weak heart couldn't handle it, but the thoughts kept spiraling out of control. Alistar was somewhere in that house. Lydia was somewhere in that house. It didn't matter that they had been 'detained' - whatever that meant. If they were alive I couldn't help but still feel like I was in danger. Cole had to have been buried somewhere on these grounds to keep up the Saxon front. All the headlines I'd seen implied that the world thought they were all dead already. I was the lone survivor of the 'terrorist attack' in Alexandria. Which explained why there were hoards of reporters outside the entrance to the manor as well, their flashes dulled by the dark tint on the windows.

I couldn't stop my uptick in breaths, trying to combat the rapidly building beat of my heart. The gates shut behind us and I startled a little at the clang of it. I had to get out of here. I clenched my fists on the top of my jeans and then winced as the motion rippled up my injured arm. The chain reaction causing the panic to build. I tried to distract myself by looking out at the distorted coloring on all the grounds through the tint. The giant fountain at the entrance was a dark grey, the topiaries and rose bushes a brownish green. Everything looking wrong seemed right in the end. I'd spent so much time resenting my mother from keeping my father and possible family a secret from me. Now everything I had wanted this house to be was forever ruined to me.

The driver stopped right in front and I could see movement behind the stained glass windows at the vaulted grand entrance. I pressed my hand harder into my chest and then bowed toward my legs, trying to get ahold of myself. The panic just kept building. I couldn't catch my breath, my heart aching from the stress. I closed my eyes and tried to push out a long breath between my lips. He touched me then.

The tips of his fingers slowly moved over each vertebra between my shoulders. I heard his seat belt unbuckle and then the soft creak of the leather divider rose up as he moved right next to me. He smoothed his warm palm up and down my back. Then I heard him press a button and tell the driver to give us a minute. I leaned forward onto my knees only to have him guide me back up, press me up against the seat and then pull my arms above my head. He crossed them on the top of my messy ponytail and I nodded and opened my eyes. That was easier. He kept one hand on my crossed arms, the other ran down my leg to squeeze my kneecap.

"Anya asks about you eight times a day. Every day." He said. His smile hesitant, his palm running back and forth over my knee.

I gave him a weak smile back. I let out another long exhale and whispered, "I don't think I can do this."

"Sleep? Have people dote on you? Babies can do that - I think you can manage." He teased, but it fell flat, the usual snark in his voice replaced with worry. He squeezed my arms and then looked out my window. I turned as well to see the crowd gathering at the grand entrance - a mix of familiar and new faces. Everyone was peering, anxiously, at our tinted windows. It didn't help. I closed my eyes and tried to take another big breath.

"They're all looking at me with that...Circle savior gleam. I'm not their savior." I exhaled. His thumb ran in a few tight circles on my knee in silence and I opened my eyes, alarmed. He broke his gaze from the crowd and then locked eyes with me.

"At least they don't look at you like you're dangerous now."

He couldn't possibly think that about himself? Could he? Even if we didn't fully understand what he was capable of yet, he was still the same man. He'd still make the same choices. He'd continued to keep me safe through all of this. Sometimes even in spite of himself. I had to prove I still trusted him, and I knew words of comfort were going to go unheard in his current state. His thumb made another quick succession of circles around my knee.

I slowly brought my arms down, his palm still connected as they landed in my lap. I leaned toward him, heart hammering in my chest, and let the tip of my nose slide along his, so close I could kiss him and murmured, "you're not dangerous."

The tension he'd been holding since I'd woken up almost two weeks ago, melted away with his shaky exhale. He closed the few millimeters between us, his lips brushing against mine, leaving the smallest kiss and then he pulled back to whisper,

"I love you."

I smiled and started to form the reply when a knock came to his door followed by it opening, the blinding afternoon light filling the car. I barely had time to compose myself before my door opened next to a waiting wheelchair, an explosion of confetti and shouts of, "welcome home!"

It was overwhelming for a different reason than the paparazzi had been. This was a group of people that I would be expected to interact with, respond to when all I wanted was to jump back into the car and drive until the panic ebbed from me. I was glad I had the sunglasses. I smiled as brightly as I could manage and tried not to cling to Stellan as he helped me into the wheelchair. No point in embarrassing myself in front of Jack, Elodie, and Colette at least. But where was Anya?

"You look wonderful!" Colette beamed and was the first to come forward and kiss me on both cheeks, wrapping me up in a tight hug as she continued, "we're so glad you're here."

She pulled back and her eyes were shining with tears, she dabbed at them with a finger and I opened my mouth to reply when Jack pushed forward next surprising me with a quick and fierce hug before taking a couple steps back and grinning, "glad to have you back."

"Thank you," I finally managed to get in and sucked in a breath, trying not to panic. Elodie slid up next to Jack and looked me over critically before smiling,

"Avery," she tilted her head toward me.

"Elodie," I said a little warily and it caused everyone to laugh for some reason, even Elodie. The all looked at each other like it was the punchline to some joke, but I had no idea what the set up was. I shifted in my wheelchair to look around them and asked, "where's Anya?"

Colette looked around the crowd, "she was just here."

We all looked for a second when a thin, average height woman, her dark hair laced with highlights of grey, stepped out from the line of new people. Elodie nodded and gestured toward her with a respectful,

"Avery, this is Gemma Densmore. She is the household manager here."

Gemma smoothed her professional looking pencil skirt and button-up white blouse before she strode forward, her heels clicking across the cobblestone and stopped right in front of me and bowed her head deeply,

"Your Majesty," she paused, I cringed and tried to hide it with a smile. "Welcome to Riberton Hall. If you'll follow me."

I tried to hide my surprise. I'd always assumed it had been named Saxon something never really considering this place would have some kind of historical significance. With a tight turn, she quickly clipped across the cobblestones and everyone jumped out of her way. Stellan started pushing my wheelchair and I watched as little pieces of confetti floated off of me down toward the still waiting line of attendants trying unsuccessfully not to look directly at me. No, not me - us. Their eyes darted from me to Stellan in a constant loop that I could feel even as we passed. I couldn't help but wonder how many of the staff knew about the Circle. Or had they all been watching the news as well and thought I was some black widow bringing death and destruction to their door now. My group of friends surrounded us as Stellan navigated the kickplate of the entryway and Gemma's voice broke through again,

"...by the 19th century, most of the remaining gothic stonework had fallen into ruin warranting a rebuilding in the baroque style by the proprietors of the time."

Ugh, a history lesson? Was she going to test me? I should have been paying attention but all of this was distracting - the grandiose entry that was painting everyone in stained glass colors as we paused for Gemma, the shuffling of staff coming in from outside behind us making me wary, and Anya...still nowhere to be seen. My wheelchair started to move again as Gemma pointed to the imposing metal and dark wood staircase and her voice echoed in the entry,

"...after the First World War, extensive repairs were done to uphold the structural integrity of the house. Which was also when the Saxons began their legacy with additions on the second story and the rest of the grounds."

I put a hand to my chest, feeling my breath coming short again. Were we going to tour this whole place? That could take hours. With this audience too? It was making my skin tingle with panic. I could have slapped myself for thinking it but suddenly I wanted my uncomfortable bed and _Die Hard_ again. At least then I only had to deal with an unstable-looking Stellan. We made a sharp left turn and I glanced up at him, confused as he wheeled me down a long hallway. The rest of the staff broke off behind us leaving just Gemma at the front, my friends around me, and four staff members behind us. Stellan nodded toward Gemma as she gestured toward a door in the center of the hallway,

"...the private quarters built during the Second World War for more covert operations of comings and goings."

She opened the door into another house. I hadn't seen this part the last time I was here. They must have kept me in the formal part of the house. It dawned on me so quickly I was glad no one could hear my thoughts - of course, they had, they'd been spying on me too at that point. The small entry led into a huge living room with doors and hallways beyond. The living room itself was half the size of most of the apartments I'd lived in. Gemma started rattling off all the creature comforts of this place that I had expected to hear: state of the art sound system, largest TV ever made, finest furniture available. I tuned her out again as we pushed through it all and started down another hallway of closed doors. It felt like a maze. I wasn't sure how I'd ever be able to navigate this place without getting lost. Or if I should even want to. I knew I technically owned all this now but I didn't feel right here. That was further illustrated when Gemma opened the final door in the hall to the master bedroom and I quickly made a big show of folding up Stellan's sunglasses in my lap so they couldn't see me cringe. I didn't want to be rude, but this room was ugly. No...gaudy.

When I'd lived in Los Angeles one of the class field trips had been to the Getty Museum. We had spent a very long time in their Sculpture and Decorative Arts section which housed furniture from what had seemed like all the King Louis' of France ever. But it would appear that Alistar Saxon owned the rest of it and had stashed it in this room. Did I actually have to sleep in here? Should I even? Wouldn't that be kind of creepy? I looked around at the rest of the ornate and heavy looking decorations and felt my mood darken. Stellan wheeled me up toward the bed and I tried to think of it as some themed hotel room so I wouldn't keep cringing. The four staff members lined up along the far wall, hands behind their backs, as Gemma finished with,

"...look forward to the contributions you shall be making to such an esteemed legacy."

I forced a big smile and nodded at her. There wasn't even a beat of silence before Jack stepped forward and held out a brand new, huge, iPhone to me.

"Already loaded up with the numbers you'll need. We've also synced your calendar and put in the reminders. Though feel free to arrange all your apps and such to your liking." He shook it toward me again and I forced myself out of my shock and grabbed it.

Calendars? Reminders? What numbers? What about all our burner phones? Did we not use those anymore? I suddenly had flashes of Stellan barking into a very similar looking iPhone in the hospital and answered my own question. My heart started to thrum in my chest again and I took a few quick breaths trying to calm it as a wave of exhaustion pulsed through me. We hadn't even been here for an hour and I was already worn out. They had cautioned me at the hospital not to push myself too hard the first few days back and I had been so anxious to leave I hadn't really believed them. Now all I wanted was to slide under those gaudy sheets and sink into that creepy bed.

Stellan finally parked the wheelchair and offered me a hand up. I grabbed onto him with my good hand and let him sling his arm around me to help with the few steps toward it. I was sure he could feel my heart hammering in my chest now with this close proximity. The room had grown quiet and I heard Jack let out a small, confused sounding noise as Stellan helped guide me up onto the bed and then made sure I was settled before standing guard right next to me. As I relaxed back into the mountain of decorative maroon and gold pillows I looked back up at the crowd for them to continue and felt my breath catch in my chest. Jack and Elodie both looked stunned, then confused and finally settled on worried. They exchanged a brief glance at each other before shaking it all off and barreling onward like they hadn't just realized how sick I still was.

"We've already been working with the nutritionist on the limitations of your diet. The PT specialist from the hospital will be here every day for the next few weeks and taper off based on your progress." Elodie stopped, double checking the list on her phone and I shifted the pillows around me again. Jack and Elodie moved a bit closer to the bed, one of them firing updates at me whenever the other one took a breath.

"We're going to need to schedule a few different sessions with the lawyer to have everything transferred to you. Of course, it first starts with passports and citizenship so we have someone coming in tomorrow to take the picture at…" he trailed off.

"10 AM, sir." A woman's voice clarified from the line of people against the back wall. Jack nodded.

It reminded me of that awful feeling I'd get whenever we'd had to move in the middle of the school year. When you'd step into the classroom mid-lecture about something you knew you were already woefully behind on. How everyone's eyes would size you up as you sat at the desk. Unnatural. Nothing about this felt natural. I smoothed my shirt across my thighs and looked down at my feet. I hoped the motion conveyed that I was still paying attention but ensured I didn't make eye contact. I only had a few minutes left before my composure quickly dissolve into a panic attack. It was too much.

"We need to get the stylist in here sometime this week to start fitting you for the new wardrobe. The first event is…" Elodie paused, flicking at the screen on her phone. I put my good hand on my chest, looking down at it, sure my heart was about to burst through my rib cage.

Stellan's eyes met mine. I didn't need to say anything, he already knew it all. He pushed off from where he was leaning against the bed next to me and rose his hands toward Jack and Elodie, attempting to slow them down. They reflexively winced, both trying to stop their flinch but it quirked their faces awkwardly. Their eyes locked onto his hands, anxiously waiting. Stellan clenched his fists and barked out at them,

"That's enough."

"What?" Jack and Elodie said at the same time, recovering quickly. They eyed him incredulously while the rest of the people at the back wall quickly filed out of the room.

"We have a lot of ground to cover." Elodie gestured toward me, frowning.

"And it's my job to keep Avery alive. You're stressing her out." Stellan countered and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands away. "Remember what I told you?"

Jack and Elodie didn't answer, just nodded, turned and left, leaving the door open as they did. My interest peaked at his rhetorical question, but I let it slide, grateful everyone was gone. I relaxed back into the pillows and saw movement at the door jamb.

"She wants to see you. It's alright." Colette coaxed and then stepped into the room gesturing toward me. She gave me a little wave and smile and then looked back down at, I assumed, Anya, hidden in the hallway. I immediately sat back up and held my breath in anticipation.

There had been quite a few times in the hospital when I'd wished she was there, asking me questions and teaching me Russian. I missed that budding closeness with her. She had been one of the only people that hadn't looked at me like I was broken in Spain. I had asked Stellan several times why no one had come to see me in the hospital and he'd always had some thinly veiled lie ready for me. Luc was still recovering in France, or Jack and Elodie were finalizing things in Egypt, or children weren't allowed in this part of the hospital. I was sure all of those were true, but I was also sure that none of that would have stopped us before so what had made it stop them now? For me, it had always come back to what must have happened in Egypt. I couldn't remember much of it, and even in his brief moments of sleep, Stellan continued to look haunted. But as Colette gestured toward me again my brain bombarded me with Anya's tear-filled eyes watching us as she'd been taken upstairs in Alexandria. Whatever little she must have seen had probably been terrifying. My heart started to sink.

"Anya?" Stellan asked moving toward the door jamb. There was a tiny sound of protest and then of shoes smacking against the hardwood floors. Stellan and Colette's heads snapped to watch her go. Then Colette's cheeks flushed and Stellan's neck turned red as they looked at each other before Colette looked at me.

"She's been a little more shy than usual." Colette tried to save the situation, giving me a gracious smile. Stellan still hadn't turned around. I nodded and then slid down on top of the covers as I rolled onto my left side and lied,

"I need to sleep."

Stellan shut the door behind himself but I could hear their worried whispered conversation pick up immediately as they moved down the hall toward Anya. I pressed my numb ring finger as hard as I could into my chest. I felt nothing. I closed my eyes and let the tears slip down my face until the exhaustion of the day caught up with me and I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_Blood. Smoke. Burning. Panic. White._

I flew upward, smacking at whatever was around me, gasping for air I was sure I didn't have. My left hand knocked into a heavy metal lamp, hurling it toward the glass of water next to it. They both went crashing to the ground with thumps onto the thick carpet. My right hand was fisting fabric in it tightly, squeezing as hard as I could as my chest heaved with panic. I turned to see Stellan staring at me, just as frightened. I blinked at him a few times, my head snapping around me trying to find the danger, disoriented and fighting the urge to jump on my weak legs and run.

"You're safe." He carefully, cautiously, whispered. I nodded, but I didn't let go of his shirt. Instead, I pulled him toward me, yanking on the fabric until he complied - still too rattled to speak. He slid next to me under the sheets, stopping short of the few inches between us that I really wanted. I released his shirt and leaned onto him, my forehead on his pectoral. He tensed but didn't pull away. I put my right hand up to my chest and tried to take a deep breath.

"Sorry," I whispered back. "Did I wake you up?"

"Yes," he lowly said, his voice rumbling in his chest. He ran a hand over his face, I could hear his stubble scratching against his palm. "But it's okay. I barely sleep anymore."

I pulled away from him, falling back against the headboard before turning my head to look at him, propped up in the bed. The bedroom was so massive that even with his bedside lamp on we were surrounded by shadows. Just a giant king size bed, barely lit in the ocean of darkness. I took a long, settling breath, the panic finally starting to ebb out of my veins. "That can't be good."

"Nothing new, really," he shrugged, "I'll be fine."

His eyes roamed all over my face, and his fingers twitched on the comforter next to me before he leaned forward and tucked some hair behind my ear. I closed my eyes, relishing the touch. His fingers took a long time slowly running down the length of my hair. I smiled and opened my eyes to ask him to do it again but the request died in my throat. I'd caught him in a moment of completely unguarded honesty and he looked tormented. I was baffled as to why. We had won. We had fulfilled the prophecy, we had gained the power of the Saxons and the Order, Anya was safe, the Circle was going to fall into line, everyone he cared about was no longer imprisoned by archaic rules. We'd won. So why did he look like we'd lost?

"What's wrong?" I whispered and tried to detail more of him in this darkness. He immediately blinked and in that small movement flashed back into the person I'd first met. Eyes distant and bored, mouth pressed into a small quirk as he rolled his shoulders and shook his head. I reached toward him, my ring sparkling in the low lights and pressed my fingers against his chest, right above his heart. "Don't shut me out. Tell me."

He grabbed my hand, hesitating, and then pressed a kiss to my rings, despite us both knowing I couldn't feel it. He nodded and kissed them again and the meaning behind the gesture clicked in the back of my mind. It was not just about his devotion to me, but about the promises we'd made to each other a lifetime ago at Collette's villa. No secrets.

"You were dead," he whispered to the rings. He didn't look at me, the tremor in his hand revealing just how difficult this was to speak about for him. "Over and over again."

If it was possible I was sure even my blood froze at that moment. My heart skipped a beat and then started back up, hammering in my chest. I had died. The words echoed loudly in my mind, adding to the building panic. It had sounded so different in the hospital, they always danced around that fact, brushing over it quickly. My hand started to shake within his grip and I swallowed hard against the ball of tears rising in my throat. For a flash of a moment, I thought I couldn't hear this part. What could I possibly gain? I was alive. That was all that mattered now. But as I managed to look at him in the dark safety of this room, the silence and privacy finally allowing him to be honest, I could tell he was different now. The permanent dark circles under his eyes, the hollowness to his cheeks, the fine lines in his forehead when he furrowed his brow made him look ten years older. This had changed him. If I wanted to know him completely, if we wanted to keep growing together, I had to hear this. I threaded my fingers with his own and squeezed.

"I failed you." He finally said. I shook my head, starting to protest but the words died in my throat when he blinked rapidly and I was worried he might tear up. I wasn't sure what to do if that happened.

"No. You can't think that." I cut in, feeling the tears well in my eyes. He shook his head.

"I can still hear the sound of you flatlining in my head. It was this tormenting version of tinnitus whenever I'd look at your monitor."

"Flatlining?" I whispered, unable to look away from his face. He took our hands and pressed them into my chest, right against my still rapidly beating heart and glowered at it. The realization slowly moved from the bottom of my spine all the way to the back of my skull and I shivered, looking down at our hands. "How many times?"

"Three." He paused, swallowing hard. "And there was nothing I could do. They had to...strap me to the bed, drug me. I kept trying to get to you but they wouldn't let me. I failed you." He finally locked eyes with me, the look of torment filling the blue enough to make me press our hands harder into my chest. The bewilderment rose up through me, how could he possibly think this was his fault?

"No," I said firmly. A rush of protective love filled me, erasing the quicksand of horror and confusion that was sucking me down. I held his gaze for a moment before calmly saying, "the tomb killed me. My destiny killed me. My blood killed me. You saved me."

He looked away but didn't let go of my hand. Instead, he kept squeezing it as he slowly started,

"Didn't feel like it when they started asking me if I was your husband. If I knew about your life support wishes."

"Oh, Stellan," I whispered, more to myself than anything. This was worse than I had thought it was. They had left out these parts when they'd been explaining what I'd survived.

"Or when we all had to stand there, helpless, waiting to see if you could breathe on your own, off the ventilator." He finished quietly, running his thumb along the underside of my wrist.

I closed my eyes, the picture forming in my brain of what those first few days must have looked like. It was overwhelming. He squeezed my fingers in his own and I took a breath and tugged my hand until he looked at me again, "I'm alive. I'm right here. You have to forgive yourself."

"Every time I take my eyes off you something goes horribly wrong. I paired you with Jack in Valencia, I let you leave with Elodie in Ibiza, then Egypt." He turned away. I brought my other hand to cover his own still clasped in mine.

"It's okay."

"It's not. It's really not." He glared out into the darkness, squeezing my hand back. "My life felt like it had come to a standstill until I saw you on that street in Minnesota. And now everything is happening so fast it's like a decade has passed in a few months."

I suppressed the sigh. I knew the feeling. He let out a long breath as I whispered, "I know."

"To see you laying there, lifeless, for weeks." He stopped and held his breath, before letting it all out in a rushed whisper. "I can't do this without you."

"You won't." I tried to reassure. "You have to forgive yourself. This wasn't your fault."

"No." He released my hand, leaning back against the headboard and rubbing his hands up and down his face, mumbling through them, "I can't."

"You will. You'll have to, or this isn't going to work."

As soon as it left my lips he pressed his hands into his face again, hard, and exhaled through them. I looked at the space between us now and the layers of truth in that statement thudded into my chest. He must have been thinking the same thing. For weeks. Watching everything he'd fought so hard for slowly slipping away the longer I laid in that bed. Powerless because of all the power he'd been given. The space he'd kept between us finally made sense now, he just could not risk losing me again. Especially if he felt like he was dangerous.

We sat there for a long moment. The sounds of this unfamiliar house filling the silence. The ticking of the gold clock on his bedside table, the chirps of nightingales outside our closed windows, the air conditioning kicking on and blowing a cool breeze toward our sheets, rippling the curtains in the shadows to make it seem like the room was coming alive. I felt uneasy here, like a new hotel in a dangerous city. I had the urge to double check the locks on everything. I looked at the clock, 3 AM. We weren't going to solve this tonight. We might never solve this. But I knew one thing - he had to start sleeping again. A sleep-deprived Stellan was a danger to everyone. Since I relied entirely on him right now, unable to even walk without him materializing next to me, I wanted him rested.

I ran my fingers up his arm, lightly, he let out a contented sigh and rubbed his closed eyes. I gave him a little push and whispered, "roll over."

"You don't have to…" he started to say but I shushed him. I pressed my hand onto his side, pushing him to help. He reached for the light but the idea of darkness made my chest flutter with nerves.

"Keep the lights on. Makes me feel safer." I murmured to him, sliding down and across the bed with him. He rolled almost completely onto his stomach and pulled at his shirt, smoothing it a little. I pressed my finger onto the center of the sunburst from memory. All his tattoos were hard to see in this dim light, but I relaxed into the bed and just let my finger trace. With every curve, he sunk a little deeper into the pillow. When I let my finger run down the length of the sword a shiver ran down his body, and then he exhaled deeply. By the end of the next tracing, he'd passed out.

When I was sure he was in a deep sleep I rolled onto my back and pulled the covers closer. With the knowledge that his constant surveillance was temporarily off, I thought I would have felt relief. Instead, it was as if the safety of the room had shrunk down to just the pool of light from the lamp that spilled over him, the glow barely touching me. The air kicked off, the shadows stopped moving, the birds quieted and I closed my eyes and tried to make myself relax, unable to for hours as the sun slowly rose through the curtains.

I'd resigned myself to stay awake at 5 AM when he rolled over, tucked me against his chest and mumbled something in Russian as he immediately fell back asleep. Finally being held by him made me want to sob. The normalcy of the gesture caused a swirl of emotions to battle in my chest - love, loneliness, fear, safety, panic, comfort. I snuggled in closer and exhaled, his heartbeat against my back calming me with every thump until I finally drifted back to sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

I wasn't sure whether it was the other physical injuries or my brain injury, but I couldn't manage to get back on a normal sleep pattern. I felt like a newborn, unable to sleep through the night, napping during the day. My erratic schedule ensured that when Stellan had basically rolled on top of me at 7 AM I was wide awake. We'd somehow managed to end up side by side in the bed during the night, on our backs. This morning, however, he'd rolled onto the right side of my body, using my arm as a pillow, and had draped himself across the rest of me. Our legs were tangled, his stubble was scratching my arm, he was heavy with sleep and mumbling things. It was heaven. I started tracing all his tattoos, running my fingers through his hair and realized we were actually alone. For the first time. Ever. There wasn't an immediate danger, there wasn't a plane to catch, there weren't people in the other room waiting for me to wake up. He snuggled deeper into me, burying his face in my cleavage and I laughed a little to myself. I was close enough now to see that the base of his eyelashes were blond and he had a smattering of barely there freckles across the bridge of his nose. You don't have the time to detail these kinds of things on the run.

He was still so deeply asleep that as I smoothed my thumb gently across his eyebrow he didn't even stir. I didn't want it to end. I finally felt like myself again - minus the painfully stiff arm, constant dull headache behind my eyes and building panic attack about being here. There was no way I was going to move, all of my injuries dissolved the longer we laid here. The warmth and weight of him were reassuring in a way that I hadn't expected when it had happened the first time - all the way back on the train to Cannes. I was relieved we were finally back to this part of our relationship. I wouldn't have been able to rise to this building expectation of me otherwise.

His confession last night filtered through my thoughts and I dropped a kiss into his hair. It was difficult for my mind to imagine what all that must have looked like. I could only conjure up memories of doctor shows as a reference, but then I'd remember his haunted look and knew it must have been so much worse. I had to find a way to erase that. After everything he'd risked, and sacrificed, and suffered through for me, I had to find a way to make him forgive himself for something he couldn't even control. But at least this admission had released enough pressure to allow himself to touch me again. My hand started to go numb under all his weight. I tried to move it and he pouted in his sleep and grumbled,

"_Prekrati eto_."

I bit my lip to stop the laugh. This was too much. I wished I had my phone within reach so I could blackmail him forever with this. I tried to move again to grab it and he shifted just enough for me to slide my arm out. I started flexing my fingers despite the pins and needles as he slung his arm across my torso, pulling me closer in his sleep and murmuring,

"_Tak myagko_."

I smiled and slid my fingers up under the bottom of his shirt, letting the tips lightly run up the length of the sword on his bare, warm, skin. I thought of moving again so he'd mumble some other highly embarrassing Russian phrase when the door cracked opened and then, to my surprise, Jack slipped in.

He glanced toward the bed and then did a double take at Stellan's still sleeping form, the confusion flitting across his face as I felt my own eyebrow rise in question on my forehead. First, what the hell made him think he could come in here? Second, who the hell would be wearing a three-piece suit at eight in the morning? He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something and then snapped it shut, jerking his chin toward Stellan. I gave him an indignant look back, obviously, he was still sleeping. Jack motioned for me to shake him and then brought his arm up, his giant watch sliding out from under his suit and tapped the face of it. There was no way in hell I was going to do that. I shook my head and started to pet Stellan's hair again, smiling victoriously as he snuggled further into me. Jack gave me an exasperated look but I just shrugged and lifted my hand from threading through his hair to wave goodbye at him. His jaw tightened at first but in quick succession, he looked at the ugly scarring on my bare arm and Stellan still asleep in the bed a few time before turning and leaving, abruptly.

I didn't want to know what that was about. It would burst this perfect bubble I was in. And I really needed a happy little bubble - at least for my first morning back. I managed to finally angle myself backward enough to reach my phone and then quickly pet him back to sleep before opening it to investigate all these appointments and contacts that had come preloaded. They were all color coded and written in a shorthand of some kind. The perfect task for an invalid. I could decode this somehow while I laid here. I wanted to give him as much time as he needed. This was different from the few hours I'd help him catch in Egypt. That had been necessity sleep. He was coming up on eight full hours now and while that was typical for everyone else it didn't seem like something normal for him.

In the entirety of the time I'd known him, he was an incredibly light sleeper, and always up before everyone else. I couldn't help but think that maybe this was something else entirely, like his subconscious was keeping him asleep so it could soak up all the snuggly attention. I had the feeling that if he could he'd want to do this all the time. He always gave off that hard, 'don't touch me' exterior, obviously out of necessity when his scars were always painful, but he was holding me in his sleep like I was an anchor to his sanity. He hadn't let me go for hours and it was making my heart expand in my chest. He was fucking adorable, and that's saying a lot for a giant Russian assassin that could possibly shoot lightning out of his hands.

But that was the point, right? We had both transformed into something legendary. Him more so than me. Everyone saw us differently now, treated us differently and I knew it was only going to become more pronounced the further we moved away from the safety of my convalescence. I wanted to remember this Stellan. I never wanted the real version of him to get lost in all these building legends. Because that's the way he'd always seen me.

My phone buzzed in my hand and I rolled my eyes immediately. Jack.

_Alright it's 9 AM. Wake him up._

_Nope._

_We have a lot to do today Avery._

_He needs the sleep._

_Doubtful. _

_Two more hours until it's a full 8._

_Don't be ridiculous. _

_Honestly, I'm doing you a favor._

_I'd love to hear this one._

_I think we can all agree that sleep deprived _

_Stellan makes bad decisions. _

There was a long pause. I smiled, smugly. Then he came back with,

_Can't really argue with that._

_Right, so leave us alone._

_11 AM is the longest I'll wait. _

_I've already had to reschedule stuff for the two of you._

_We'll see…_

_You're as bad as him._

I laughed a little and he started to stir. Despite him finally coming to I wasn't ready to stop touching him. I let my fingers continue to roam as he stretched and inhaled deeply, blinking awake.

"Morning," I said. I let my fingers drag across his stomach as he rolled completely onto his back and stretched, still buried in covers and rubbing his eyes. My fingers walked further up his chest under the shirt and he pressed my palm flat against his skin, smiling. His voice rumbled out, still thick with sleep,

"Don't ever stop doing that. But also find a way for me to use the bathroom."

I laughed, he pressed my hand harder into his chest and then rolled out of bed, throwing back the covers as well. I watched him shuffle across the plush carpet and disappear around a corner before I relaxed back onto the bed, my phone buzzing in my hand. I knew it was Jack but I had no intention of stopping this, so far, perfect morning. Stellan came back around the corner, running a hand through his hair before rolling right back into his spot next to me on the bed.

"What time is it?" He yawned. I let my fingers pick right back up on tracing patterns on his t-shirt as a smile pulled across his face.

"I think 9?" I quietly answered, concentrating on my tracing. That knowledge shook him to fully awake and he pulled back to stare into my bemused eyes.

"I've never slept in that long." He looked over at the clock to confirm. My phone buzzed in my hand again and I held it up for him to see,

"Jack is very annoyed with me." I scrolled up and down for a moment showcasing the escalating texting battle we'd been having since his rude interruption. "He came in at 8 AM and I shooed him away."

"How exactly do you shoo someone away?" He laughed and pushed the phone down into the covers between us. His eyes were bright and playful and his fingers started to wander up my arm. I leaned toward him and whispered conspiratorially,

"I gave him a very stern look and waved him off."

He laughed again and wrapped his arm around me, dragging me closer under the covers. He slid his hand down my thigh to guide my leg up over his own, then started sneaking his fingers closer and closer to my ass. This was dangerous. On so many levels. As badly as I wanted all of his attention I also had no desire of ever being interrupted by people in this house again. It was only a matter of time before Jack was going to come back. I had to break this up before I was naked and under him - bedrest be damned. I decided on humor,

"Someone has to look out for you. You're adorable."

He stopped and then immediately pinched my waist until I yelped at the tickling. He scolded me, "I have been called many things but adorable is not one of them."

"What does _prekrati eto_ mean?" I said, squirming away from his tickling fingers. He managed to find the spot again and I laughed loudly, swatting him away as I giggled. "Or what about _tak myagko_?"

"You better forget those. And that word you just said." He warned, the threat lost from the smile on his face. He tried to tickle me again but I shook my head,

"But you are!"

I ran my fingers through his hair and then slid down until I was eye to eye with him. I could still feel the slight hesitation between us. He was staring at my lips but he wasn't moving toward them. With an inhale of determination I raked my fingernails lightly against his scalp and lowly said, "I love you."

He pressed forward kissing 'I love you' back onto my lips, gentle and soft at first, still hesitant despite the world not exploding from the action. I reached down and pulled the fabric of his shirt taught against his back and toward me, deepening the kiss as I did. I slid my leg further up his own, his palm smoothed up my thigh and held onto my ass and we shared a single breath before meeting again. I felt him harden against my stomach, the tip of my tongue slid against his own, my heart started hammering in my chest and then my phone buzzed between us. We both stopped and I let out a quick growl of frustration that Stellan laughed at. He dug around between us until he found it and held it up so we could both see,

_I know he's awake now. _

_You have ten minutes before I throw a bucket of cold water on both of you. _

* * *

The new shower was one of the most complicated things I'd ever seen. It had taken us a good ten minutes before we figured it out. It had a remote control to adjust the multiple heads and speeds. I'd laughed for another five minutes at the blatant excess of it before Stellan had pointed out that the giant sunken bathtub could basically double as a jacuzzi. I completely forwent a shower to investigate it. As I commented loudly to him how many people I thought you could fit in there and mused if you'd need a lifeguard just to bathe, he'd showered and wandered into his side of the closet.

I was still a little overwhelmed by the Hollywood movie feel of the whole bathroom set up. The double doors that led into this 'en suite', as they called it in Europe, was almost as big as the bedroom itself. To the right was the sunken hexagon shaped antechamber, with matching skylight, that led into the separate walk-in closets for Stellan and I. Each side of our closets also held 'dressing' or 'changing' rooms with several displays of jewelry and shoes protected inside glass cases, it seemed blatantly extravagant. Then to the left were the futuristic shower and pool-size bathtub along with more counter space than found in most kitchens, along with mirrors along the length of it that extended almost up to the ceiling. One thing was for sure - the previous owners were incredibly vain. It was the only way I could think about where we were without slipping into another panic attack.

"Do you need a map?" Stellan's laughing voice reached me from his side of the closet and I stretched my hands out and let my fingers run over all the couture on either side of me as I walked deeper and deeper into the excess. It was staggering and the world started to spin around me. I made it to the back of the closet and found a high backed ivory settee, complete with button tufting and dark wood legs. I sat with a thump, putting my face in my hands and attempted to will the spinning to stop. Considering my wrinkled hospital clothes and probably epic bed head I felt even dizzier and out of place. I didn't belong here.

"What's wrong?" Stellan asked, his voice getting muffled a bit from all the clothes surrounding us. I looked up at him and it felt like my eyes were rolling around in my skull as my dizzy spell took full effect. He took two quick steps toward me and pushed me back against the cushioning of the chair. "Breathe."

"Sorry," I exhaled. "Just dizzy all the sudden."

"You have to take it easy, Avery." He quickly scolded me. I gave him an indignant frown ready to sass back with a 'yes mom' when I noticed he was already dressed in a jet black three-piece suit. If he was already dressed it could only mean that...

"These are all my clothes?" I incredulously asked looking at it all again.

"Elodie told you that yesterday. Do you not remember her saying that?" He asked, his eyes darkening with concern.

"No," I answered my voice sounding small as I looked down at my hands trying to remember what she'd said. I remembered her saying a stylist was coming, I must have tuned her out more than I thought.

"Come on," he helped me up and then looked through a rack of clothes pulling out dark skinny jeans and a lightweight but long sleeved dark green scoop neck shirt. The price tags were still on and I balked at what I saw as he practically drug me out of the closet and back into the bedroom.

Our phones started buzzing on the nightstand as he ripped the price tags off and tossed them toward the trash can. One phone started rattling toward the lamp and he picked it up and without even looking at the name started snapping curse words in French at whoever was on the other side. He rolled his eyes at the caller and kept speaking in French which didn't really help me narrow it down. As I waited I noticed that he had misbuttoned his shirt and reached out undoing all his hasty work. He sputtered a little and grabbed my right wrist as he said,

"...j...just do it. _Est-ce clair_?"

"You missed a button." I quietly offered and looked back at my handiwork. I could easily see his collarbones because he wasn't wearing a tie with this suit. He pulled my wrist up to his lips and kissed the underside,

"You distracted me." He smiled and released my hand quickly fixing his shirt but leaving the final button undone. Our phones buzzed again on the table and I grumbled,

"Can we throw them away now?"

"That was your reminder." He said as he tossed my clothes onto the bed and then moved onto his side of the closet again. I leaned against the doorjamb watching him examine all the different shoes he had displayed.

"For what?" I asked. He turned to me, concerned again, dropped the shoes to the floor and forced his feet in, lacing them quickly.

"Your passport photo and paperwork. Jack told you about that yesterday as well."

I shrugged. I remembered Jack talking but not really what he'd said. Stellan buttoned his suit jacket as he slowly moved toward me, his eyes raking across my body, just like they had in the hospital. I felt helpless and indignant all at the same time. I knew I wasn't well but I hated when he looked at me like that, like he couldn't trust anyone but himself to take care of me. If I was well enough to leave the hospital, I didn't need his surveillance of me to be quite so intense anymore.

"Maybe I should," he started to say but then glanced at our constantly buzzing phones.

"Go. Anything to get Jack to fucking stop." I snapped. Stellan laughed,

"How do you know it's Jack?"

"You don't yell at Elodie," I explained turning away from him to examine the clothes on the bed. He slid up behind me, body flush against my own, the smell of his soap and shampoo swirling around us and kissed my shoulder before murmuring against it,

"You're better at that."

"Ha." I flatly replied. He kissed me again and then moved toward the door.

"I'll be back before dinner."

"Hopefully I'll have figured out how to use my phone by then." I looked up at him and that familiar, panicky, tortured look crossed his face. The same one I'd see every day when Sadist Rebecca would take me away - when he couldn't keep his eyes on me. "Don't worry. A picture, some PT, and sleep. I doubt anything exciting is going to happen today."

"Stellan, are you ready?" Jack called down the hall, impatiently. He glared in Jack's direction and I actually laughed a little. He closed the space between us so quickly it startled me. But then his hands were over my messy hair and he was pulling me toward his searing kiss. I melted into it, breathless and wanting as he pulled away just as quickly. Without another glance back he shot out a string of French in Jack's direction that sounded very rude. I heard Elodie laugh in the hallway as the three of them took off on their adventure today. My phone buzzed again on the nightstand and I frowned at it, dejected. Looking at the screen I had two notifications - boring paperwork and scheduled torture...fantastic. I grabbed the clothes and moved back into the bathroom.

* * *

After a quick breakfast and the half hour of endless versions of the same horrible passport photo - Sadist Rebecca had shown up, bouncy and effervescent as ever. I'd crawled into the gaudy bed still splotchy with tears shortly after our session was over and had fallen immediately asleep. Which was why, when I heard low talking and pages being flipped on a magazine I thought I had to be dreaming. I tried to make out what they were saying but it was too difficult to in my dream state. But then it slowly rose in my consciousness, I couldn't understand them because it was in French.

My eyes flew open and there, at the foot of my bed, lounging like it was his natural state was Luc Dauphin. Next to me, the bed shifted and I darted my eyes to see Colette as well. They were both too engrossed in their reading to notice me and I was grateful for this small miracle. Because an overwhelming wave of intense relief was making me choke with tears. It was one thing when Stellan had told me in the hospital that Luc was fine. But it was quite another to see Luc in his canary yellow silk dress shirt and bored pout hanging out on my bed.

I tried to contain myself but it blubbered out along with my rush of tears,

"Oh my god, Luc!"

Magazines forgot, Luc traversed the bed in a heartbeat and pulled me into a giant, crushing hug.

"Tears! You see this?" He laughed to Colette, still hugging me to his chest. "Even my _maman_ didn't cry like this!"

"You're alive." I croaked at him, my tears seeping into his shirt. He pulled back and gave me a smile, his eyes in disbelief,

"So are you."

"Why are you here?" I turned to Colette, "both of you."

"To keep you company, of course." Colette smiled. "Just until everyone gets back."

"Where did they go?" I asked. Luc let me go and sat at my feet so we could all see each other. I'd tried to figure out my calendar on my phone in between my photos but had failed.

"The Circle meeting." Luc shrugged. My mouth dropped with shock, and then I snapped it shut, the anger boiling in my stomach.

"Shouldn't I be at that?" I glanced at both of them.

"_Cherie_!" Luc admonished. "You haven't even been out of the hospital for 24 hours. Absolutely not. It was strongly suggested you stay here."

"By Stellan?" I asked, annoyed. Luc and Colette exchange a very knowing look.

"Told you she was paying attention." Colette cryptically said to Luc.

"By your doctors." Luc amended. "Though I suppose it would have been glorious to witness today's meeting."

"Why's that?" I shifted in all the pillows to a better sitting position.

"Our King has finally decided to grace us with his presence and wisdom." Luc pressed his palms together and then bowed toward me a little.

"Lucian," Colette scolded, "you know he hates that."

"Which is why I'll continue to do it until he stabs me." Luc smiled brightly at her in response.

"Why aren't you there then?" I asked.

"I was explicitly told I was not to come today." Luc smiled, mischievously.

"Where is this being held?" I crossed my arms over my chest, the indignation growing the more details I was getting.

"Prague." He smirked. "Which is why I'm here instead. _Maman_ never said I couldn't come to London, only that I couldn't go to Prague."

I laughed, really laughed and felt my heart beating in my chest, the blood pumping through my veins just like it had before all of this. Normal. Well, almost. This heavy feeling filled my chest as I tried to remember just how many countries there were between England and the Czech Republic. I couldn't quite articulate just what I was feeling because it was too many things at once. Anger that he hadn't told me that part of this plan. The indignation that he'd probably try and play it off with some backhanded 'you didn't ask the right questions' kind of remark. Upset that he didn't think he could trust me with this when clearly it had been bothering him this morning. And worried, so worried. I would have thought I'd be relieved at this momentary lift on my surveillance but it was the opposite. My guts were twisting with worry, he was too far to protect me, to protect Anya. I didn't even have Jack or Elodie.

"We have a surprise for you." Colette leaned toward me. I forced all my churning emotions back into a tight ball in my stomach, trying to shake off the darkness of my mood. Luc jumped up from the bed and took off down the hall. We watched him for a moment until he disappeared around the corner. The realization was quick but I was almost afraid to ask. I turned to Colette,

"Where's Anya?"

"It's Tuesday," Colette looked at her phone, "so she's just finished up her riding lesson and is being escorted to her ballet lesson. Then Greek and English tutors."

"Oh," I was surprised.

"Stellan keeps her very busy." Colette shrugged. "Tuesday is my easy day of watching her she has so many lessons."

"You watch her?" I asked, curious and a little jealous. She nodded,

"He asked me to, while he stayed in the hospital with you."

"She didn't want him taking her to these things?"

"Of course she did," Colette gave me a quizzical look. "But he had to stay with you."

"The whole time?" I asked, incredulous. Surely he had to have left a couple times. Colette's eyes went a little bit wider as she came to the same realization I did - there was a lot Stellan hadn't been telling me. Down the hall, I heard a rolling sound followed by Luc's triumphant,

"_Viola!_"

He'd pushed a high backed leather desk chair into my room, it's rolling wheels getting stuck on the plush carpet.

"Your chariot awaits my Queen." He bowed.

"Where are we going?" I gingerly pushed myself off the bed.

"To explore your castle!" Luc offered me a hand and once I was settled started to push me down the hall.

* * *

I'd stopped making comments about a half hour ago. We were just under two hours into my official tour of Riberton Hall when I'd run out of things to say. Luc had started out with all the 'boring' things, as he deemed them to be - the library, the kitchens, the parlor, the billiards room, the drawing room. He'd also complained that it was far too muggy to go outside so he wasn't going to show me the herb garden, the hedge maze, the stables, the outdoor pool or the garage. As we'd made our way through the long gallery toward the indoor pool he had gone on and on about how impressive the collection inside the garage was.

The tour had been this zig-zagging wind through all sorts of back hallways and cutting across more obvious rooms like formal living and dining rooms. Every room had polished wood floors or red patterned carpets. Everything was meticulously clean and gleaming in the low lights Luc would turn on and off for our benefit. The house felt like a museum, where each room held the kind of authority of some place far too fancy to be touched. I almost expected there to be placards of information and a gift shop at the end of this tour. It was overwhelming and we weren't even done.

The long gallery held sculptures and mixed media pieces that were lit by the frosted skylights above us that ran the length of the hallway. They all looked very contemporary and I wondered if I should have recognized any of them as Luc pushed me quickly down the hall. He didn't seem to think this was all that important - his goal was the pool at the end of this gallery. As we parked my makeshift wheelchair to explore the pool on foot, Gemma had turned the corner and startled,

"Your Majesty, I'm sorry." She bowed her head and I frowned again, unsure how to tell her not to call me that without sounding rude. Colette and Luc's eyes shot immediately to each other and they seemed to be having some kind of silent conversation before turning back to look at me. If I didn't know any better I'd say they were about to mercilessly tease me. Gemma settled and glanced at Colette first,

"Ms. LeGrand."

She turned toward Luc next but he gave her a deep bow, with a hand to his chest. Then he stood back up grabbed her hand and planted a kiss on it before saying in a very serious voice,

"_Mademoiselle_ Densmore, always a pleasure to see you."

I was lost. Gemma was apparently not. She put her other hand on her hip and waited until Luc gently let go of her before giving him a very stern look,

"_Masure_ Dauphin I'll have you know I was just in the cellar."

"_Tu me fais mal_." Luc quickly replied giving her a shocked look. Gemma rose an eyebrow at him and then turned back to me.

"Please do let me know if you have any questions. I could provide you with the annotated history of Riberton Hall if you'd endeavor to deepen your knowledge."

Homework. How did I know she was going to give me homework? I nodded and politely replied,

"That would be great."

With another bow in my direction, she turned to move past us back out into the long gallery but not before she smiled at Luc,

"It lovely to see you again."

As she efficiently clipped down the red-carpeted hallway Luc offered me a hand up and then slung his arm around my waist to guide me into the indoor pool.

"Your Majesty let me do the heavy lifting." He loudly exclaimed.

"Shut up Luc," I grumbled. Colette laughed behind us, but I was honestly glad that Luc was still holding on. I was starting to get very fatigued. I hadn't done much walking during this tour but it had still been exhausting to my recovering body. As Luc set me down on a metal lounger I sighed,

"What's in the cellar?"

"Wine." Luc and Colette said at the same time. _Right_. I put a hand on my chest so they couldn't see my embarrassed flush. They smiled at each other and mercifully let it go. I looked around at the iron framing holding up panels of glass above and around us. This pool was perfectly placed on this property to get the light from the sun but not the heat all day long. The aqua blue water was completely still, the ferns and palms were bright green against the glass panels, the checkerboard tiles around the pool complimented all the empty furniture. It looked like something out of a magazine.

Luc leaned back in the lounge next to me, rolling his wrists and cracking his fingers as his eyes went distant for a moment, lost in thought. Colette was the first to speak between us,

"I wonder if she's running off to the garage to confiscate all the keys."

Luc let out a large laugh, it echoed in the space and he shook his head.

"She seemed like she knew you very well." I said.

"I practically lived here a few years ago." Luc smiled at the memory and then looked at me and my confusion and amended, "when Oliver was alive."

"I see." I looked down at my hands.

"It's one of the reasons Jack and Stellan became so close. Olli and I would work on his cars and Stellan and Jack would...do whatever it was they did."

"Oliver was into cars? You are into cars?" It seemed a bit ironic to me since that's what had killed him. Even more significant when I remembered that all his 'little brother' had done was destroy them.

"I was into drinking his wine and talking football. But Oliver and I shared many hobbies. Ibiza, pretty models, philanthropy."

He grew quiet again, lost in his memories. Colette offered me a hand back up and guided me around the edge of the pool back toward my leather desk chair. She started slowly pushing me back through the long gallery and we both turned as Luc caught up with us.

"This should have been my first clue in retrospect." Luc said. He glared at the art around us. "Oliver wasn't into contemporary artwork. This was all Lydia's doing."

I nodded in agreeance but I was already in my own tangle of thoughts. What had this place been like with the brother I'd never meet? What was it like with the siblings I had met? Would I ever be able to call this place home when it was saturated with such dark and troubling memories for everyone? Or even worse - could we stay here after we'd eliminated the threat being held somewhere inside these walls?

"Maybe we should show her the conservatory." Colette offered breaking through Luc and my private musings.

"Oh," Luc brightened. "Yes!"

He bumped Colette out of the way, swiveled me completely around a few times and then wheeled me through a side door toward wherever this conservatory was. As we forced our way through another study my phone buzzed in my pocket. Out of instinct I tried to take it out with my bad hand and sucked in a hiss of pain through my teeth.

"Too bumpy?" Luc slowed the chair and I shook my head.

"No. It just my stupid," I started to say and dropped off. First, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to say anything at all. Stellan and I hadn't really discussed my arm that much. Seeing as how he couldn't stand to look at it for more than three seconds didn't make it easy to get an opinion. But more importantly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk about my injury. If we hadn't even allowed visiting doctors to ask me questions about it did that automatically eliminate Luc and Colette? Or did that make them more trustworthy? I wasn't sure. Besides, this day had been amazing. I wasn't about to ruin it by talking about that time I died in Egypt and how I can't use my arm without crying now.

"Your?" Colette pressed. We'd stopped right outside the conservatory and my jaw dropped, her prodding question immediately forgotten. I stood up and left them behind me, walking in without assistance.

"This is breathtaking."

The name conservatory seemed wrong for what my eyes were greedily soaking up. It was as if they'd shoved an entire ecosystem inside a glittering glass house. The ceiling above us sparkled in the late afternoon sun and vaulted almost two stories into the sky like a church steeple. All along the glass walls were various trees, shrubs, ferns, and bushes that mixed with every color flower in every imaginable variation I'd ever seen. But that paled in comparison to the extra long rectangular reflection pool running down the center of the space, complete with lily pads and coy fish floating toward the surface. The gravel walking paths gently curved around sculptures and deepened to allow for benches before disappearing into the tree line at the back of the structure. I blinked a few more times at it, sure I wasn't seeing something so lush and alive against a house that had been perfectly sterile.

"This is the best feature of this house - of any Circle conservatory really," Colette said next to me and I looked over at her, a wide smile across her face as she took it in as well. Luc closed the door behind us and for a moment it was just the blissful sound of the fish bobbing and some fountain hidden among the foliage. Then my stupid phone buzzed again, with Luc and Colette's a close second.

"Well, that only took him two minutes. He's loosening up a little." Luc laughed and leaned toward me to show me his phone. The message was in French but I recognized the name at the top - Stellan.

"I'll text him back," Colette said, typing away on her phone. Luc threaded his arm through my own and guided me back toward my chair.

"You'll have to draw me a map of how to get back here," I said as he settled me back down.

"I think Gemma would be better for that. I only know how to get here through trial and error." Luc answered. "I'll ask her once we get you back to your bed."

"Oh," I slumped in the chair, "so that was him checking up on me."

"That was him confirming they are on their way back." Colette corrected, holding the door open for us. We were back out in the main hallway that branched off into the many different wings of the property. I wasn't exactly ready to leave that place, I also wasn't ready to be tucked back into my bed like a child. They'd still have to fly back right?

"So what else haven't we checked off the list?" I looked up over my shoulder at Luc. He pressed his lips together in thought as Colette continued to text away on her phone next to us, keeping pace as we slowly made our way back to the private wing.

"I suppose all the usual Circle things." Luc nodded in response. I let out a little laugh in my chest,

"Which are…" I prompted and he smiled.

"Right, you wouldn't know. I always forget." He stopped and pointed behind us. "There is the ballroom for Circle events we don't want press to bother us for."

"This one is good, but the Vaselvic's is the best." Colette piped in.

"There's the guest suites for diplomacy of visiting dignitaries." Luc continued, his palm still gesturing behind us.

"And spying." I tacked on. He and Colette suppressed their laughs.

"Everyone has a private gallery to impress said dignitaries of diplomacy." Luc gestured toward the right of us and a hallway that split you off into the more utility part of the estate with the studies and drawing rooms.

"It's not the same as that one by the pool?" I questioned. Luc shook his head and started pushing us again.

"_Non_. Another one. Alistar Saxon has terrible taste in art - so I'm not going to waste your time. But he does have excellent taste in wine. I think part of it is his vanity. He keeps another gallery of the more notable pieces at the British Museum for everyone to see. Which I've always found hilarious."

"Because you live in the Louvre?" I quickly shot in. Luc's bright bark of laughter filled the hall and then he stopped the chair to bop me twice on the nose.

"She's quick." He laughed. Colette pocketed her phone and looked further down the hall. We all watched as a man in a dark suit opened a panel on the wall and slipped through.

"What's that?" I broke up our silence with the question. But I was sure I already knew.

"Every house has one of those as well." Luc quietly answered, picking up the pace on pushing my chair as we drew closer to the private wing. "You've already been detained in mine."

My stomach twisted with nerves, spiked with flashes of horror that made me swallow hard. I'd have to go down there at some point, wouldn't I? The monsters in our basement, the secret we were all living above waited for me down there. Colette held open the door for the private wing and Luc practically shoved me over the threshold, all three of us sighing as soon as the door shut.

"Lastly," Colette gestured to our living room. "The private suite for covert operations. It's a tradition for the new wife to get rid of the stink of the predecessor with an unnecessary overhaul."

"Really?" I glanced at both of them, dubious of a tradition that extensive. This might not be exactly what I'd dreamed of when I thought of my own space - but it was still nicer than any place I'd lived in.

Luc clapped his hands together and then wrung his palms looking around the space, "so what shall you burn first?"

Colette slid her arm over Luc's shoulder and said, "actually it would be Stellan's choice. He's the wife this time."

We all erupted in laughter and all the darkness that had been swirling in my chest started to float away. Luc and Colette each grabbed a side and helped me down the hall back toward the bedroom.

"What do you think he'd change?" I asked quickly examining every piece of artwork and light fixture as we moved down the hall.

"The bedroom." Colette and Luc both said at the exact same moment. Then again, at the same exact time, "jinx!"

"Why's that?"

"Not his style," Luc answered and gestured around the room with a dismissive hand. "This is all far too heavy and dark. His room back home was white."

"White?" I pushed, my interest peaking. I'd never seen his room at the Louvre.

"Blindingly white," Colette confirmed.

"It was also all natural lighting and sparse. Like no one really lived there." Luc concluded and then focused on helping me up into the bed. As I settled against the pillows an ache formed in my chest as I tried to picture his room. His empty, sterile room he'd come back to every night. It made sense to me why he'd do that - to remind himself he wasn't supposed to be there, to keep figuring out a way to escape, to protect Anya. Comfort breeds complacency. What a lonely way to live your life. We'd have to figure out something different for him here.

As Luc threw a chenille blanket over my legs I smiled at the two of them. What had started out as a lovely surprise had turned into one of the best days I'd had in recent memory. Just friends, laughing and exploring somewhere together without any kind of timetable or outside pressure to rush them. Sure it had been exploring a piece of property I now technically owned...as did Stellan once all our paperwork was done, but it had still been fun. I needed fun.

"Maybe redoing the bedroom should be my wedding present to him." I joked.

Colette let out a ringing laugh that filled the room and Luc threw his hands and face to the sky as if thanking God and then leaned forward and kissed me on both cheeks,

"Avery, I am so glad you're still here." He said in earnest, and then kissed me again and tucked the sides of my blanket around my legs.

"Get some sleep." Colette grabbed the back of Luc's collar and started to drag him from the room. "We'll be back."

"Soon!" Luc added and they closed the door as they left.

* * *

The next time I woke up the bed was empty and the room was dark. I couldn't quite tell what time it was and grabbed my glasses off the side table looking around the silent room. Through the door, I could pick up a faint noise and stretched my aching muscles before shuffling toward it.

He was sitting on the center cushion of the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table playing a game on his phone as some TV show went to commercial on the giant system in front of him. In just a white t-shirt and some track pants, his hair falling into his face it was a picture of perfect normal domesticity. My heart swelled in my chest and I held my breath so I could keep watching him. How could this possibly be my life now? I was flooded with my lonely childhood. The lukewarm dinners by myself as my mother ran out the door on some 'military errand', the boxes we always kept in the living room because we never fully unpacked, watching all the neighbor kids have family visit them during the holidays. That was over now. It would never be everything I wanted, it would always feel a little wrong without my mother here, but it could be close. All my fluttering hope mixed with worry. If I could have it all, that meant it could all be taken away too.

The TV show rolled back on, some kind of sports recap, and he looked up from his phone, catching me in his peripheral.

"_Lyubov' moya_," his voice was warm and his smile sleepy as it pulled across his face.

"Where is everyone?" I leaned against the door jamb, still enjoying the view as he locked his phone and tossed it on the coffee table.

"In bed." He looked at the clock on the wall next to me and I twisted to see for myself, it was almost 11 PM.

"Why aren't you?" I asked. He shrugged and leaned back into the couch, crossing his arms over his chest as he dug himself deeper into the cushions.

"Not tired."

All my blossoming hope was dashed out with annoyance. So we were back here again? Was he going to _not_ sleep on this couch too?

"Stellan," I growled. He shrugged as if to say 'what'd you expect', then patted the cushion next to himself. I settled in, our thighs touching, but he didn't make any effort to get closer. So I reached over, grabbed his hand and threaded our fingers. A happy little huff escaped his chest as he squeezed my fingers with his own. Then he grabbed the remote for the TV, muting it and angled himself so he could face me,

"What did you do today?"

"I went on a bit of an exploration." I smiled at the memory. "Probably only saw half the property though. Luc had all kinds of ideas of what I needed to see."

"Unsurprising." Stellan laughed.

"You used to be here all the time?"

He nodded, relaxing a little more next to me, our arms touching.

"It's strange to be here again. Jack and I spent a lot of time together when we were younger. But it feels like a memory from a different person now. I'd never even seen this part of the property before. Makes sense in retrospect, considering what they were planning."

"Hmm," I quietly replied, squeezing his fingers again with my own, so warm and strong. He looked down at our entwined hands and started rubbing his thumb back and forth across my pointer finger at this incredibly soothing pace. I relaxed into the couch as well as Luc and Colette's joke about revamping this part of the house filtered across my mind. I couldn't help but ask, "so what do you think of it?"

"Of what?" He countered, still focused on our hands.

"This part of the house." I clarified and he stopped his examination to look up and around us.

"It's…" he dropped off, his mouth pulling into a frown and I squeezed his hand in anticipation. I was pretty sure I knew what he was about to say, considering the brief description of what his room in France looked like.

"Gaudy right?" I supplied, impatient.

"Oppressively opulent." He corrected and the laughter burst past my lips filling the quiet room. As I quieted back down he pulled our joined hands to his lips to kiss the top of mine, then dropped them into his lap.

"Can we just…" I dropped my voice in case someone was spying on us, "get rid of it all?"

"Probably not." He whispered back.

"Why?"

"Some of these pieces are heirlooms I'd bet. They should be donated to museums not tossed to the curb." His eyes ran over all the bulky, ornate furniture filling the living room. Every single room in this wing of the house was like that. The idea that I could actually get rid of it all, clear out the baggage of at least this part of the property gave me hope.

"Can we do that?" I asked, leaning back into the couch to start taking a better inventory of all that my eyes could see.

"You can do whatever you want little doll." He yawned and then leaned his head on my shoulder. It threw me out of my line of thoughts. Very rarely did he say my nicknames in English, he must be more tired than I'd thought. I had so much I wanted to ask him, so much I wanted to talk about. I hadn't seen him all day and if my complicated calendar was any indication tomorrow wouldn't be much better. I decided to cut to the chase.

"Prague?"

"Luc," he growled.

"Don't you dare." I quickly cut over him. "And don't give me some…"

"I didn't want you to worry." He jumped in before I could finish, lifting his head from my shoulder and chanced a few glances in my direction.

"Stellan," I carefully said, trying to pool all my thoughts and feelings into something concise. The silence built between us for one beat, then another, and then he grabbed my hand and squeezed it between his own.

"It won't happen again." He assured with another squeeze. I rose an eyebrow at him and he gave me a curt nod. I swallowed back down all the perfectly crafted counters to whatever he was going to throw at me. _I'm part of this family. You promised me complete honesty. Knowledge isn't going to kill me_.

Fight averted he slowly lowered his head back onto my shoulder and started to relax. I threaded my fingers with his own, unwinding as his radiating body heat started to warm me up.

"So how did the Circle meeting go then?"

He let out a huff, "not terrible."

"So, bad?" I laughed making sure not to jostle him too much.

"I'm unscathed aren't I?" He shrugged. "The first hour was half the group arguing why I shouldn't be there because I wasn't a Saxon by blood and we'd yet to prove we were married."

"Lovely." I rolled my eyes. Something told me even a piece of paper wasn't going to convince everyone of that.

"The second hour was the other half of the group arguing it didn't matter if I was Saxon or not I was a descendant of Alexander the Great and therefore ruled over all them, including you."

"Yikes." I squeezed his hand. He yawned again and settled heavier against me.

"Which then led into the third hour of dragging out the mandate and picking over it word by word with every Family weighing in on their interpretation based on their Family's research."

"So nothing was done?" I summarized.

"It ended with the decision that they would only listen if both of us were there. The mandate proclaimed a purple-eyed Circle girl and a male descendant of Alexander. It was about the only thing everyone could agree on." He finished with some kind of mumbled curse word but I wasn't sure which language it was in.

"So we're a package deal?"

"It would appear so." He turned his face to sloppily kiss my shoulder, never letting his head leave me. I had the urge to comb through his hair but that would be too awkward an angle so I squeezed his hand again.

"I should have been there. Now we have to wait for the next one."

"Absolutely not." He quickly replied. "I'm going to protect you from that bullshit for as long as I can. It was incredibly stressful. It would have been too much for your heart."

"I didn't know finishing a 5K was part of the proceedings." I gave him a disapproving huff.

"And why, exactly, did you need to sleep for four hours after Luc pushed you around the house all day?" He countered. _Touche_. I rolled my eyes unable to argue against that.

"Why are you so wiped out then?" I hedged.

"Jack and Elodie." He groaned. "I forgot how," he yawned, rubbing his eyes before stuttering, "ob...ob..._nevynosimyy_ they are."

"_Nevynosimyy_?" I parroted back. He laughed, like he hadn't realized he'd said it in Russian. I leaned my head on top of his own and shot out, "wait, let me take a guess."

"Is this how Anya teaches you? No wonder you're so far behind." He chuckled.

"Obnoxious." I drawled, annoyed.

"Pretty close." He nodded his head and then started rubbing it against my shoulder a little, like a cat. When he settled again his long exhale seemed to make him slump further into me. He was exhausted. I knew jet lag could suck but what could they have possibly done for him to be this tired? His hand started to go a little slack in my own and I squeezed his fingers.

"Stellan?" I whispered. He grunted and sat up yawning, then turned the TV off and pulled me to standing.

"Let's go to bed."

I wasn't tired. I was frustrated, on many levels. Yet, looking at the weary slump of his shoulders made that impulsive ache in my chest to protect him flood me. Maybe I couldn't get all the answers I wanted out of him right now, or leave the walls of this house yet, or speculate how we're going to manage all this change. But I could protect him by providing some comfort after what had probably been a super intense day for him. Small steps. The fact that he passed out before I was even done with my first tattoo tracing confirmed it. We were both protecting each other with the best tools we had at our disposal. Mine just happened to be snuggling at the moment.


	6. Chapter 5

Day three in my opulent prison was turning out to be a pretty lonely one. Waking up alone had blended into eating breakfast alone. An apology text from Stellan and a debrief from the maid were just the beginning of the letdown. Colette had a meeting all morning, which meant Jack had to stay with Anya, and Elodie was off doing some top secret Order business. I'd frowned into my coffee as the maid cleared my plates trying not to look wounded in front of this stranger. She knew more than I did. I knew it was because I didn't know everyone's schedules yet, but it still stung. More than that was the fact that I had nothing of importance to do today and yet Jack had to change his plans to watch Anya. So was it that they didn't trust me to watch Anya myself, or that Anya didn't want me to?

The rest of my morning and into the afternoon was taken up by more paperwork signing and the stylist and her assistant dressing me up like a Barbie. For hours. They were both, of course, French. I could almost hear Elodie's cackle of victory from here. So they'd had a great time chatting with each other and using only gestures and simple commands with me. By the time my appointment with Sadist Rebecca came onto the schedule I was looking forward to the company. Of course, there wasn't much talking. Just Sadist Rebecca manipulating my already sore arm into even worse positions. The Barbie session had aggravated the injury and we were currently working on hooking my bra by myself in PT. She'd made all kinds of chirping inquiries about why I was tearing up so much today and I'd barely contained the outburst I'd wanted to give. She'd finally felt pity for my agony and let me out early.

I had my Family meeting next, with a capital F. I had no idea what that was about. Was it a meeting about the Saxons? Was it a meeting with all the Saxon staff? All these calendar settings and reminders just had vague titles and locations. It never told me who it was with, or what the meeting was for. This next one was in the private study. I'd assumed that meant the one in our private wing and had started back in that direction. At first, I was horribly lost and wished there was some kind of "You Are Here" map in this museum-like portion of the estate. But in the first win of the day, I'd found the nondescript door in the hallway, thanks to Luc and Colette's tour, and had entered into our private wing ahead of schedule. I could already pick up on voices near the back of the wing and all my building fatigue lessened. I could forgo my usual post PT nap if it meant I could be around my friends again. As I neared the study, however, I heard a soft giggle and abruptly stopped. I'd heard Colette laugh before and that wasn't her.

I pressed against the wall and slowly inched down the hall until I was across from an oversized print in an obnoxious gold plated frame. It was apparently some famous British photographer's work, but that didn't matter. What mattered was that I could see into the study from the reflection of the glass in the frame. It was Jack, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, frowning at whoever had giggled inside the study. A spike of hope and realization filled me. Maybe it was Anya! I realized for the first time that Family, with a capital F, in this case, might actually mean Korolov - not Saxon. I took a breath to prepare myself for finally seeing Anya when the distinct sound of heels clicking across the polished wood of the floors filled the silence. Elodie. She was taking slow, deliberate steps and had his full, undivided, attention - even if he was still frowning.

"Not you too." She cooed and slid up between his legs. "You're both too pretty to look so grumpy."

"Pretty?" He grumbled but his hands untucked and slid down her waist and over her hips, slowly. My breath caught in my chest - no. No. No. No. I did not want to see this. I should do something.

"Fine you are the handsome one." She leaned toward him and planted a kiss on his lips. It lingered and as she pulled away she wiped the little bit of red lipstick off his mouth.

"He is looking pretty rough." He pulled her closer. Him? I wondered and knew in the next moment - Stellan. Maybe I did need to at least hear this. I slowly let out the breath I'd been holding and tried my best not to make any movement that might cause a floorboard to creak and give me away.

"Can you blame him?" She ran her fingers through his hair.

"No." His hands slid over her backside, perfectly fitted inside her charcoal pencil skirt. "Honestly, I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. When you consider that he actually looks great."

What were they talking about? Seen what with their own eyes? And when? Now? At the hospital? In Egypt? There was so much time to cover and so many reasons. I was instantly reminded of Stellan violently shaking out his fists in my hospital room. Was that it? Did this have something to do with the mandate? The tomb?

"He's late." She swung her hips a little in his hands making them move all over her ass. He smiled down at her leaning in when I heard behind me,

"_Kuklachka?_"

I saw them jump apart a fraction of a second before I let out an embarrassing yelp of surprise and spun around toward him.

"Stellan," I exhaled with a woosh.

"I've been looking all over for you. You didn't pick up your phone." He snapped, obviously annoyed, but his face couldn't mask how intrigued he was. I knew exactly why - I felt like a Red Dwarf I was so bright red. I fumbled with my phone, pulling it out of my back pocket and switching the sound back on. I'd turned all the sound and vibrations off mid-morning when I'd realized everyone was too busy to text me back today.

"Sorry," I tried to fight through my layers of mortification at being caught in this sneaky, voyeuristic act. "Sadi….Rebecca let me out early." I corrected quickly.

He still looked unconvinced, deciphering me with that intense look he used to have when he was just a Keeper and I still had brown eyes. With a shake of his head, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and gestured toward the office, keeping his distance as we entered. I was really hoping he'd go in first. I straightened my shoulders and tried to mentally will my still raging blush back down. Jack and Elodie were now at a respectable distance from each other at the desk, waiting for us. Stellan brushed past me and pulled out a chair, waiting for me to sit before settling right next to me as Jack and Elodie sat across from us.

So this was a Korolov meeting after all. Our first one. The embarrassment was still churning in my stomach as we all settled. I could feel my blush ebbing from my skin but I knew, for sure, that I was never going to live this one down. Knowing Elodie she was dying to take a jab at me and my misfortune. Knowing Jack he was going to act like I hadn't just been spying on their foreplay and been caught by Stellan. As I found the courage to finally look across the table at them Jack was scrubbing through things on his phone and Elodie was staring directly at me, an eyebrow slowly rising on her face as she barely contained her smirk. This was going to be a very long meeting.

"Go ahead," Stellan ordered and leaned back in his chair.

My mortification momentarily forgotten, the two of them launched into their alternating monologues of updates just like they had my first day. Elodie was finally making significant progress with the Order now that Stellan had met with them. Mandates were being researched, sites were being investigated, assets were being moved and the inheritance that had been kept for him and Anya was finally transferred. Jack had been working with Roberts on staffing the house both public and private and they just had a few more drivers to hire. There had also been progress on the interrogations but nothing of note like the first few weeks.

I blinked down at the table as they both paused. I already had so many questions I was losing them. I pulled out my phone and started typing notes like - who is Roberts? What Order sites? Did I even want to know what they'd found out in their interrogations? Because I already knew who they were talking about. Stellan just kept nodding or making non-committal noises at them as they continued to launch into their updates. Then he pocketed his phone and slid his hands under the table, violently shaking out his left fist.

It was the hospital all over again and I realized now why he'd always been barking back at Jack and Elodie. If this is what he'd been subjected to over the phone I would have been cranky too. This was overwhelming. It was just so much information in short bursts that didn't really connect in my brain. I barely knew anything about the Order, I knew even less about the Saxons. It already felt like I could never catch up to all this, and Jack and Elodie were still barreling onward. Things like how we wanted to stack the order of official visits, which teams to put on which mandates, the brainstorming session results on how to invent more social events to be seen at. The fatigue pulsed through me and I struggled not to show it. I would have normally been asleep by now, too worn out from all the PT abuse and recovering from the last of my injuries.

Stellan glanced at me as they paused and I looked up realizing I'd been asked a question. I hadn't even heard it in all my confusion. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortably, shaking out his fist again and grumbled,

"I'm sure that will be fine."

I felt terrible. I couldn't keep up, I couldn't answer questions, I couldn't contribute to this Family meeting at all. On top of all that my body ached, everything was stiff and sore and my arm was starting to throb from all the abuse today. I was incredibly fatigued. But I needed to be here. I couldn't help if I didn't try, and all they were asking was for me to pay attention. My depression from this morning tried to swirl in with all my other conflicting emotions and I clenched my stiff fist and started to rub my aching arm. The meeting forged on.

"The memorial visit next week has been arranged." Jack glanced at his phone. "Monday morning at Brookwood."

"Fine," Stellan huffed.

"We just need to get an appropriate dress for Anya and everyone will be ready." Elodie distractedly added. The reaction burst through all my depression and fatigue like a sun flare.

"No way." I immediately said at the same moment Stellan ordered,

"Absolutely not."

Jack and Elodie's eye both went wide with surprise and they held perfectly still waiting for the explanation. Stellan and I glanced at each other in the silence and he nodded for me to continue. I'd said so little this meeting my mouth felt dry with nerves but I was resolute in this,

"There's no reason to subject her to that. I'm only going because you told me I need to for the cameras. She doesn't need to be photographed. In fact, the less she is the better. She stays here."

My rush of protectiveness burned through all my disappointment and embarrassment. I didn't have deep Circle knowledge or even know how to navigate all this new celebrity, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know Anya didn't need to be seen at that memorial, especially one that wasn't even real. I wondered what had possessed them to think that was a good idea in the first place. But when you considered the fact that they'd both lived their entire lives within the Circle I supposed forcing a seven-year-old to go to a fake funeral for the monsters in our basement didn't seem inappropriate.

"We will arrange extra security to stay here that day then," Elodie noted not looking up at us, typing on her phone. I glanced back at Stellan and the smallest smile started to form on his lips. Had we just made a family decision together? Without even consulting each other first? Had we also managed to throw Jack and Elodie off their game in the process? Hope started to rise in me. Small steps. I could contribute.

"Finally," Jack broke up the moment and I turned annoyed eyes to him. "I have a task for you, Avery."

"Me?" I jerked in response. Both he and Elodie smiled and instead of it making me feel included I just felt indignant. They probably thought my reaction was funny when really I shouldn't have had that kind of reaction at all. My building confidence started to waver.

"We need you to start scanning all the tabloids and major gossip websites for mentions of yourself or Stellan. Any of us really."

"Okay." I cautiously agreed. It seemed like busywork to me but I wasn't going to voice that. It was a way to contribute. Jack gave me a sympathetic look,

"It's a way to trace back possible information leaks."

I nodded, grasping the concept but not really understanding why it was important. Weren't all tabloid just lies anyway? Wasn't that why celebrities were suing them for defamation all the time? Elodie must have caught my look of apprehension because she leaned forward on the table and clarified,

"The Circle does business in rumors as well. If we can trace leaks to specific sites it narrows down who would want the information in the first place."

Elodie and Jack both gave me waiting looks like I should have a thousand follow up questions to this straightforward task. A pulse of weary exhaustion rolled through me. I didn't have much left in me to be polite about all this.

"Got it." I nodded with a tight smile. Stellan slowly shook out his fist again and leaned heavily into the chair. So he was exasperated too? No wonder they always seemed to be exhausting him. That Russian word he'd taught me last night flung into the forefront of my mind and I smirked and leaned toward him,

"_Stellan, nevynosimyy. Da?_"

Jack and Elodie both narrowed their eyes at me, obviously not at all liking the fact that I had started to pick up enough Russian to taunt them. The excitement and victory invigorated my tired body.

Stellan started nodding along with his building laugh. Then he leaned toward me as well, both of us still facing the annoyed Jack and Elodie, and threw out a string of Russian I couldn't exactly follow. Followed by the most beautiful smile I'd seen on him in a very long time. It didn't matter that I couldn't understand everything he'd said, that wasn't the point and we both knew it. I gave him the prettiest smile I could before we straightened again, waiting for them to say something in retaliation. Which they couldn't, because technically they worked for us. I felt giddy with power, or maybe it was delirious exhaustion, but I'd take the win.

"If that's all, Your Majesties," Elodie tightly said, bowing her head toward us.

"It is," Stellan said, waving her off, dismissively. I could have kissed him. I wanted to. This was the moment for it, the victory, the teamwork, the connection between us. Elodie hadn't even gotten in the last word. I wanted to run my hands all over him, make him smile like that again, kiss the corners of it and trace it with my finger. But instead, we all just stood up and started moving for the door. He didn't even offer me a hand up and the distance doused out the joy building in my chest.

As if to add insult to injury Jack and Elodie had left first and were millimeters apart as they walked together down the hall, lowly whispering things to each other. He even bumped her hip on accident and immediately wrapped his arm around her waist to help keep her steady. They turned the corner into the living room and I looked over at Stellan, feet away from me and distracted on his phone. The jealousy burned in me. Not about Jack. I'd never be jealous about him again. Our tumultuous feelings about each other had finally seemed to calm. But I was jealous of what he had with Elodie. Or maybe I was just disappointed in what I had with Stellan. We reached the living room as well and all four of us jumped as Colette burst into the room from the main house's door, flushed and frantic looking,

"_Dieu merci!_" She exhaled, pushing her wild, auburn hair off her face.

"What?" Jack, Stellan, and Elodie all asked at the same time.

"Anya is missing."

* * *

"Are you sure she didn't leave this wing?" I tossed my phone onto the solid oak dining room table and braced myself against it as I bent down to look under it. The legs of the table were carved in intricate looping branches and leaves. I laughed at the irony of it, a tree cut down to be carved to look like a tree. Just another example of the blatant excess of this place.

"I'm sure," Stellan snapped, his voice taking on a tinny quality through the speaker. I picked up my phone and tried to make my breaths even. He was starting to panic and my low lung capacity was not going to help.

"We're going to find her. She probably just fell asleep or something." I tried to pacify, he grumbled an agreement.

I sat down with a sigh in one of the wingback chairs, carved just as ornately as the table legs. My brutal fatigue was making me woozy, but I didn't need anyone knowing that - especially Stellan. There had never been a question in my mind that I'd search for Anya, even if it was only the dining room I had been tasked with.

"Are you okay?" He immediately asked, the panic in his voice rising another level.

"I'm fine. Focus on the task at hand. Anya." I held the phone away and put it on mute so he couldn't hear me trying to catch my breath. From the back of the wing, I picked up Colette opening and closing an unending amount of doors, coming up empty-handed.

Anya had started hiding from everyone as soon as they'd all arrived in London. Colette had been the best at finding her most of the time. It was only a couple days in that they all realized it wasn't a game she was playing. When Jack was the one that had found her that day she'd screamed and started sobbing, Elodie's appearance only making her more hysterical. Colette had tried to calm her down but she was inconsolable and it was the only time they'd made Stellan leave the hospital.

He'd made her promise not to hide anymore, but apparently, it restarted once I had come home. They'd had to search for her every day this week, and this was the first time they hadn't immediately found her. She'd hidden after breakfast when Jack and Colette had made the handoff and we were about to hit lunch. So, an all-hands manhunt was currently going down in our wing of the complex. The feared and revered 13th Family, the five people that had found a tomb that had been missing for centuries, unable to find a seven-year-old. It would have been funny if it wasn't making Stellan an unstable ball of anxiety. I wasn't much better. My lingering unease about whatever the reasons were that Anya kept avoiding me were ratcheted up in her absence. It was not helping the heart condition or my delirious exhaustion.

Pushing through my fatigue I stood up and moved over to the ancient looking credenza opening the first cabinet to find stacks of delicate gold rimmed dishes. I gently closed it and opened the next one, all the cups and saucers that matched.

"I swear when I find her," Stellan grumbled into the phone and I took him off mute to cut over him with,

"You're going to hug her."

"After I'm done reprimanding her." He cracked back and I rolled my eyes and opened the next cabinet - stemware and a small cupcake with a face on it. It clicked in my brain instantly and I sank to my knees, letting my phone drop to the ornamental carpet. Silently and slowly I wrapped my palm around the crystal ball handle of the next cabinet door. There, nestled among all the napkins and extra tablecloths was Anya, fast asleep. I picked up my phone and took him off the speaker, holding it against my ear as I carefully plucked her toy from a wine glass and palmed it.

"No." I hissed at him, "you're going to hug her because she's obviously terrified."

"And what makes you such an expert on that?" He growled as I heard him slam another door near the back of the complex.

"Because she's sleeping on musty old napkins and tablecloths to hide from all of us," I whispered.

"You found her." He exhaled, the tension in his voice releasing with every word. He hung up and as I heard his dress shoes stomping across the hardwood floors toward us Anya started to stir. She arched her back and stretched out her arms knocking into all the stemware. Her eyes flew open, she snatched her hands back and then curled further into herself as she took me in. I kneeled down to her level and held up her little cupcake giving her a small smile.

"Why are you hiding, Anya?" I asked. She reached out and snatched the figurine from my hand, cradling it to her chest and then winced and closed her eyes. I heard him behind us, slowing his pace before finally sinking to his knees as well, right next to me.

"I thought we talked about this." He gently started and I leaned into him, proud of how well he'd managed to curb his anger so quickly. He held out his hand toward her and she immediately took it. I bit my tongue, noting that she hadn't flinched away from his hands like Jack and Elodie always did. He pulled her into a long hug that she did not reciprocate. When he finally let go, his hands flopping dejectedly at his sides, she ran her fingers down my chain and squeezed the locket before turning her attention to me,

"I hide because I might be next."

"Next to what?" I carefully asked, my body tensing, my heart building to a flutter in my chest. Stellan had gone completely still next to me. Anya dropped the locket and took a big breath, locking eyes with me as she said,

"The next person you kill."

"No!" Stellan and I both said at the exact same moment, both of us reaching toward her. She scrambled back, making all the china in the credenza rattle as she bumped into it.

"Anya no - you're safe. That's not...I would never…" I stumbled all over my words, my heart thudding in my throat now. I put my battered hand to my chest, trying to calm myself.

"Who told you Avery killed someone?" Stellan spoke over me, every word steady and strong, commanding. She looked away from us for a moment and then leaned against the furniture as she shrugged,

"I heard the new people say she killed someone in Egypt."

I sank back onto my legs and deflated. Stellan frowned and then all three of us looked toward the opening of the dining room to see Jack, Elodie, and Colette standing, shell-shocked. There was a moment of disappointed silence as we all processed the fact that all our attempts to shield her had been for nothing. Then Jack cleared his throat and lead Colette and Elodie away, shutting the door as he did.

Stellan's shoulders started to tense, and he pressed his lips together into a thin, white, line as he tried to formulate what to do next. But I knew precisely what we needed to do - the exact opposite of what my mother had done. We couldn't lie to her.

In the mad dash of finding the tomb, trying to keep me alive, and moving to London she had learned just enough to make it dangerous. I dropped my hands to my lap, twisted my rings and then nodded before looking up at her, surprised to find she was waiting - the blue boring into my face. I glanced down her light purple shirt at my locket and swallowed hard,

"What I told you on the plane hasn't changed. We are still in danger. But we will all continue to protect you, Anya."

Stellan shifted next to me, but I didn't dare look away. This was too important, too personal between just the two of us. She clenched her cupcake in her little fist, steeling herself and then rose her chin a little before asking,

"What about those people in Egypt? They said they were your family."

"I'm related to them, but they are not my family. You're my family." I immediately replied and battled against the flush of heat that rolled up my back and onto my face as I said it. It'd come out so easily, so surely, that couldn't be healthy. Anya squeezed the cupcake again and I continued, "They were all very dangerous people. But you're safe now."

"Because of what you did?" She asked. I shook my head, that wasn't exactly what this was. But how could I explain it to her? How can I articulate all the varied reasons I'd killed Cole without revealing too much to her? Before I could even try she turned to Stellan, getting braver and plainly asked,

"And you've killed people? You have a gun."

He tensed, obviously not wanting to answer this, to change everything he'd spent almost a decade cultivating between them. My heart lurched for him and my eyes shot back and forth between them, worried about what was going to happen, embarrassed that I was even here to witness it - this was so deeply personal between just the two of them. She waited, all the nervous flush quickly ebbing from her skin. For a single, breathless, moment I thought he was going to lie to her and my brain started spiraling out trying to anticipate all the other things we'd have to lie about - the story we'd have to cultivate together to protect her. But he folded his hands across his chest and quietly answered,

"It was my job to."

Anya's eyes flew open so wide I thought they might pop out of her skull, she sucked in a shocked breath and slowly sank to the ground, sitting cross-legged in front of the two of us, still kneeling before her.

"So you are a bad guy." She quietly said to her hands and my stomach lurched into my chest as I immediately corrected her,

"No. Anya, no."

But Stellan said nothing. I turned to him, ready for him to jump in any moment now to correct her as well, only to see him swallowing hard, ashen, and lost looking. The emotion continued to swell in the silence and the urge to correct this bubbled up through all my gut-wrenching horror like word vomit,

"Would a bad guy have almost burnt himself to death to save you from a fire?" I challenged her. I didn't mean to sound so harsh, but I was shaking with emotion now and it made her finally look up at me. She shook her head. "A bad guy would have let me drown in the Mediterranean. A bad guy would have turned me over to the real bad guys the second he had a chance to. A bad guy would have left me in that tomb in Egypt."

"Okay," she quietly conceded, looking between the two of us with curious eyes.

I pressed on, "so do you really believe that he's a bad guy?"

"I guess not," she let out in a shuttered breath.

"He would do anything to protect you, Anya. He has done everything he could to protect you. And so would I." I finished and leaned to the side so I could sit down as well, trying, in vain, to calm my heart that was visibly beating in my chest now. I was too worked up, but I couldn't help it. I refused to let her even entertain the thought of Stellan being bad. He might have done some bad things - but there was a distinction and she needed to know that. Besides, if we were really getting down to semantics he'd been ordered to kill almost all of those people. I'd killed Cole out of pure vengeance.

There was only a breath of silence before she tumbled toward him, wrapping him in a tight hug, burying her face in his chest. He immediately squeezed her back, dropping his lips to the crown of her head and leaving a quick kiss before she tore herself away, looking at me panting and probably flushed.

"Avery, are you alright?" She shifted on her knees a little closer to me, her eyes running up and down my body before they landed on my arm. I watched her eyes detail what she could see of the scar today. Since I wasn't able to leave the house yet I'd worn a simple t-shirt and from the right angle, you could almost see every inch of it.

"I'm fine." I gave her a small smile but she scooted closer to me and reached forward to gently grab my hand.

"Is this why you were in the hospital for so long?" She looked up into my face and the urge to press my arm against my side and hide it all burned through me, but I held still.

"Partly," I answered.

She leaned toward me, tucking hair behind her ear as she followed the horrible, branching, blood red scar up my arm. When she finally stopped at my shirt sleeve she exhaled and then ran her finger back down the length of it, feather light and quickly before stopping at my rings. She nodded and then looked up at me with a serious face,

"Good."

"Good?" Stellan questioned incredulously. Anya nodded again, very sure of herself, and then tucked her hair behind her ear, showcasing all the translucent scars on the side of her face.

"You're really a Korolov now. You can't be one without scars."

It took my brain a moment to process what she'd said before it overwhelmed me. I hadn't realized how much I'd needed her acceptance until she'd given it to me. Family - in spite of all the complications. My injured hand flew to my mouth as I tried to stop the outburst of tears. They streamed down my face, hot and fast anyway as my shoulders shook and I just fell apart in front of the two of them. Anya hugged me first, wrapping her tiny arms as best she could around my waist, consoling me with pats and words of encouragement as I continued to try and stop myself from sobbing. Then Stellan closed the gap and squeezed the two of us to his chest as hard as he could.

"Stop," Anya whined, struggling to get out. "You're choking me."

She managed to wiggle out and he pulled me even closer, trapping me against him before abruptly pulling back pressing a searing kiss to my lips, tears and all. When he finally pulled back I was breathless and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to sift through all the intense emotions still pulsing through me.

"Lunch?" Anya brightly asked and I laughed, sniffled, rubbed the tears from my face and nodded. I opened my eyes to see her stand and move into the kitchen for a moment before calling back to us, "I'm going to ask her to make me croquettes."

Stellan pulled me up and didn't let go as we followed her into the kitchen.

* * *

"Avery, are you awake yet?"

Someone pounded on the door again as Stellan and I both startled awake.

"Avery!" Anya yelled again and we both groaned and I threw an arm over my eyes as I yelled back,

"I am now, Anya."

"Good! Breakfast is ready!" She shouted and then I heard her run back down the hall, her shoes squeaking on the floor polish.

Stellan scrubbed at his face and then rolled over to look at the clock grumbling, "it is 5 AM. We're going to need to set some ground rules with her."

I nodded in agreement, and then pushed out of the bed, leaving him to his groggy brooding. I started toward the dining room, every step forcing me a little more awake. We could worry about that later. I'd spent days waiting for this moment and I wasn't going to miss a single second of it.

The morning with Anya had been glorious. The breath of fresh air I needed to get over this dark hump of depression that kept worming its way into my thoughts. She'd given me an extensive tour of her room, showcasing every new item she'd bought or had been gifted since arriving in London. She also explained that she had so many posters on the walls because she hated the color blue and that's what this room was. I'd suggested she ask them to repaint it for her and the awe on her face had been priceless. I'd wondered how much autonomy she'd had in Russia, we might be giving her way too long a leash here. There was indulging and then there was spoiling.

Since she hadn't been allowed to leave the private wing without an escort she then pulled me around pointing out little details in every room that I'd overlooked. She loved that every room had a control panel, that there was a guest room decorated entirely in horses. She couldn't believe that the kitchen had two ovens, or that the study had a covered porch with nothing but white roses surrounding it instead of fencing. She'd drug me into my side of the walk-in closet and pressed a button to showcase my whole wardrobe moved on some kind of conveyor belt. Her look of pride at impressing me was almost too much for my heart. She'd bravely opened both Colette's and Elodie's doors and walked around inside their rooms like she belonged there, only to then tell me that Jack locked his. I'd smiled, smugly, at her inquisitive nature. I didn't want it to end, but after we shared our lunch together she had a tutoring session the rest of the afternoon and I had an appointment with Elodie. The vague title had been - Wardrobe for BP. Whatever that meant. I'd offered to trade with her and she'd giggled for a good minute before hugging me as she took off with her tutor.

As I stared down the door to the guest bedroom I'd been directed toward I tried to hold on to the perfect morning mood. Sure Elodie was probably going to try and embarrass me about yesterday and poke fun at my lack of knowledge. But it was her nature to, and she was still helping me. Besides this wouldn't take too long and I was hoping I could spring Anya early from her tutor. I turned the knob and slid into a room filled with crazy looking hats.

"Right on time!" Colette clapped, pleased and I was momentarily stunned. First that she was there and then at what the hell I was looking at. Picking up on my confusion Elodie gestured wide,

"You're having tea with the Queen. Which means you need to wear a fancy hat."

"I...what?" I couldn't process her words correctly. The Queen? As in the Queen of England? Would the whole Royal family be there, or just her? The title of this meeting finally made sense. BP was Buckingham Palace.

"It's custom. Though none of the hats on this side of the room," Colette clarified and gestured toward the far side of the room. "Those were Lydia Saxons. Only the ones closest to us."

Elodie took a closer look at some of Lydia's hats and practically snarled,

"I will be _damned_ if we repeat anything that girl did."

I felt instantly sick. Here we were examining her hats like a crime scene when she was still underneath my feet. Or was she even? I hadn't had the guts to ask what 'progress from the interrogations' meant yesterday. It put back into sharp relief what I was always trying to forget. I was living in their home, sleeping in their beds, lounging on their furniture, eating from their china - and they weren't even dead yet. It made me feel like psychopathic tendencies ran in our family when both Saxon women had been perfectly alright living a double life.

I forcefully pushed the thought from my mind, focusing instead on the fact that I would be going to Buckingham Palace. Soon. I was flooded with panic. I was going to mess this up, I just knew it. There were rules about seeing the Queen, what you could do, say, gesture. I'd seen updates about what they were every time something had happened with Prince William or Harry. But now my mind was blank. And was I going there as a Circle Saxon or a regular Saxon? Did the Queen know about the Circle? It felt like a stupid question to ask. She had to, right?

Elodie picked up one of, what I assumed to be, my potential hats and stalked over to the other side of the room putting it up against all the similar colored ones. I leaned toward Colette and lowly asked,

"So are we going as the 13th Family or the Saxon/Korolov's to this?"

"Korolov's." Colette put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Though the Queen has already been debriefed on your ascension."

I stiffened, I'd never heard it explained that way before. It made it sound like something super important. Not our haphazard whirlwind tour of Europe at large. Elodie tossed the hat she'd been holding onto the Lydia stack and moved back over to pick another one. Apparently, if it held any kind of resemblance it wasn't going to work. I didn't question her methods.

"Does Anya get to come?" I wondered. Colette gave my shoulder a squeeze and then moved to the bed and picked up a potential hat herself.

"No," Elodie answered. "No children allowed. Maybe if she was a corgi."

I balked at her, but Elodie didn't elaborate and started examining all the remaining hats. They were all beautiful, each like a small piece of sculpture, delicate and formidable all at the same time. I had no idea how to choose one. I also had no idea how I was going to keep it on my head. Some were large brimmed with satin ribbons that had been starched into peculiar shapes. Others were small with every different kind of feather imaginable and delicate lace veils. None of them from my selection had many colors, they were white, off-white, pearl grey or blush. The growing stack on Lydia's side, however, were a variety of vibrant colors.

"I don't get to wear a fun colored hat?" I asked Elodie as I picking up a wide-brimmed white one with a pale pink fabric flower and matching ribbon on the edge of the brim. Elodie let out a snort, tossing the one she'd been holding onto the no stack,

"Only women desperate to be seen wear colors." She glanced meaningfully at the stack of rejects. "You're royalty now, they come to see you."

Colette tossed her hat onto the no pile as well and we all looked at the remaining four hats. The wide-brimmed one I was holding, a small pearl grey one with a matching colored veil, a pure white one with a plethora of feathers, and the off-white one that looked like abstract art. I set the hat back down on the bed, picked up the abstract art one and threw it onto the no pile. Elodie nodded her approval.

"What color is her dress?" Colette asked, deep in thought as she examined the remaining three hats. I was curious to hear this as well. Elodie switched them around in a different order before answering,

"White. Three quarter length sleeves. Boatneck. Empire to full skirt that hits above the knee."

As I tried to picture that Colette and Elodie both reached for the wide-brimmed one with the pink flower.

"It's perfect. Gorgeous without being too flashy and just big enough to hide her face. The cameras will love and hate her all at the same time." Colette said as she pulled the hat out of Elodie's hands and set it on my messy hair. I'd thrown it into a low slung ponytail today. Elodie reached forward and tugged at the ends of my hair,

"We'll have to pin all this up. You're in need of a cut and you can't have pink highlights to see the Queen."

I nodded and looked over at the rejects again, sad that so many beautiful hats wouldn't ever be worn. It made me think back on all the pictures of the royal family at these kinds of fancy hat events and I remembered something magnificent - the guys always looked ridiculous. Excitement buzzed through me.

"Doesn't Stellan have to dress up for this too?" I asked them both, settling the hat further onto my head and moving toward the reject bed. "In something super fancy right? I think I remember seeing top hats."

Elodie and Colette laughed and then took the remaining hats and secured them onto their own heads as they settled into the bed, relaxing now that our task was done. Elodie pulled down the veil on hers as she shook her head,

"Unfortunately no. He'll have to dress up but no top hats. Though that would have been amazing."

"Next year," Colette smiled, fluffing out her hair to look magnificent as she leaned back against the headboard.

"By then you'll be at the height of society. I bet he'll want a cane." Elodie mused and I burst out laughing along with Colette. Even trying to visualize that was too much for me because I knew she was right, I could already hear his voice as he demanded it. Go big or go home. I reached forward and grabbed a bright orange hat with a plume of dark purple feathers, sliding them through my fingers. With everyone so relaxed maybe I could finally get some questions answered about all these new personas I'd have to build.

"So every Saxon event is a Circle event. But every Circle event is not always a Saxon event?"

"Correct," Elodie answered as she pulled at the lace making it move past her nose.

"How am I supposed to know which is which?" I pushed tossing the orange hat aside and picking up a green one next. This had spiraling black ribbons tightly grouped together.

"You learn it over time," Colette started but Elodie cut over her,

"It's not that hard. I color coded your calendar. Purple is Circle, blue is Saxon."

"Then what's the red?" I countered, all the colors and abbreviations starting to finally make sense now.

"Personal." She gave me a very concerned look. Like maybe I couldn't learn any of this after all. Maybe I couldn't. I couldn't even think of an example of when a Circle event wouldn't be a Saxon one. My head started to throb, moving quickly to stab right behind my eyes. I tossed the hat down, rubbing at them,

"Sorry, I just thought it meant important."

"You can change the color if you'd like," Elodie replied, but she continued to eye me suspiciously. Colette, on the other hand, gave me an encouraging smile. I snatched up a black hat covered in almost neon looking dyed feathers.

"I've been meaning to ask. The Circle knows who Stellan is...was. But what about all these tabloids?"

"I am brilliant," Elodie smiled to herself, pulling the veil all the way down to her chin, "and crafted a story about him being a shipping heir."

"A what? Why?" I cinched the hat in my hands in surprise.

"Because it's vague and slightly dubious which means no one will investigate it because he's Russian and they don't want that kind of drama in their life." Elodie smiled again, and I could almost see her patting herself on her back.

"Plus he's already been seen with Luc and me at high society functions. So we can link him easily." Colette added, twisting the ends of her hair around her fingers.

"And if people start really digging the Order is ready with some paperwork and such to prove it. They've been building a file on him since suspicions arose after surviving the fire." Elodie finished and then pulled the hat off her head handing it to Colette who exchanged with her. "You, on the other hand, have a different story. We're going to build off the narrative the Saxons were already creating for you."

"Which was?" I leaned against the end of the bed and started pushing the hats over so I could sit.

"A Cinderella story." Elodie drawled out dramatically. She paused for effect, and to adjust her new hat before continuing. "Long lost American daughter comes into ancient British high society family. Starts to rub shoulders with the elite only to have everyone murdered by villains. She must now run the family estate to uphold traditions and legacy."

"That doesn't sound like Cinderella to me," I argued.

"Fine, then it's Jane Eyre. The point is you have to keep this up so all your Circle meetings seem justified. It's what every head of a Family has to do." Elodie countered. She adjusted the hat again, frowning. I think she liked the veil one more. Colette had kept the veil off her face and was instead gently tucking it back up as she added,

"Luckily you already have Luc which pulls in Stellan as well. You also have me, which can incorporate the Fredricks and some Hollywood ties to spin more stories in the tabloids."

"And it will be your job to befriend Talia Kohening. The event held in their territory will have every other Circle heir in attendance and you must interact with them all. So when we have to visit them or they visit us there is a trail for all non-Circle people to follow." Elodie said tossing her hat on the bed.

"Which is why there are so many galas and balls and things?" I ventured.

"No, that's just them showing off. It's important because we completely missed the season." Elodie crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

"What season?" I asked.

"No. _The Season_." She emphasized. "As in the height of British aristocratic interaction? You're lucky I was able to get you in to see the Queen before she left for Balmoral."

I was lost. Elodie leaned back against the headboard, her hair messing a bit against the fabric and settled in. I could almost feel the lecture coming.

"Haven't you watched a single British Victorian period film? All the biggest events happen in the Spring or in the Fall. We missed the Met Gala, we missed The Season, we even missed all the music festivals you could have been seen at. All we have left to keep you in the public eye are restaurant openings and West End openings. It's absolutely abysmal. So much harder to play the game when you have to invent events to be seen at."

I nodded, understanding. But pushed, "you say game like this is something we can win."

"It is," she nodded. "And currently we're the leaders. If you do everything I say." She said looking a lot like a mom trying to convince her kid to eat vegetables. Again, she was two steps ahead of me because I barely stopped the whine in my voice as I complained,

"But I really don't want to deal with the paparazzi, Elodie. You saw how bad it was when I was leaving the hospital."

"It's against the law for them to harass you so stop complaining. This isn't America." She argued.

"So true." Colette quickly shot in.

"Why is this crucial though? I'm not big on plays. Won't it be enough to go to that dedication ceremony at the British Museum next week?" I argued back.

"No. You have to stay relevant. You have to be seen." Colette added, taking Elodie's side.

"And it quells all those Circle whispers that you aren't physically fit to rule. Which you currently aren't." Elodie leveled me with a challenging look. She wasn't wrong. But it was a gamble we'd all be willing to take. Too much time had passed and no matter how much Stellan fought it I needed to start being seen in public.

"What else?" I sighed.

"Get Stellan to smile more," Elodie answered and I balked at her.

"Why?"

"Because he looks like he wants to stab everyone in the room." She explained and I couldn't help but bait her,

"What if he does?"

"You know what we mean. This part of our plan will actually be a lot harder for him because he'll keep slipping back into Keeper mode at things like this. You have to keep him engaged in the script."

I paused, taken aback by the idea that I could actually be better at something than Stellan. Maybe I wasn't completely inept at this. Then the memory of my 10th grade English paper filtered up through all my frazzled ones,

"Don't they burn the house down in Jane Eyre?"

"Avery," Elodie growled but Colette was trying to hide her laugh.

"And the guy goes blind, right? You want me to blind Stellan?"

"We're done." Elodie drawled and pushed off the bed so she could storm out of the room.

"She'll get you back you know," Colette warned.

"I look forward to the challenge." I smiled brightly at her, testing out my Circle smile.

"Better," Colette coached, " less teeth."


	7. Chapter 6

_Stairs. Endless stairs. These shallow steps that kept twisting deeper and deeper into darkness. I could feel the damp walls against my fingers, the humidity in the air, could feel my heart thudding in my chest. It became so black that I couldn't see anything, so silent I could only hear my own breath. Then there was a glow, faint at first, but enough that my eyes strained to see it. It was hazy and dim. I turned around to find the source, expecting to see light coming through cracks in the walls or ceiling. But no. The light was moving, glowing brighter as it drew closer to me. Were the walls closing in? I felt the panic start to stir in my chest. Not walls, it was a person. No. Not any person. It was..._

I bolted awake. I tried to escape, fighting against my still sleep heavy body. I managed to get one foot on the ground when Stellan rolled toward me, his hand sliding across my stomach, his own eyes still closed. His gravelly voice reassuring me,

"Avery, it's okay. It's just a dream."

I couldn't tell what was the nightmare and what was real, everything was disorienting. His voice mixed with the memory of him in the hallway. Glowing. That couldn't be real right? This was still the nightmare. He scooted closer to me, his hand cupping my ribs murmuring some things in Russian I couldn't quite pick up. The nightmare started to solidify as my eyes blinked open. The color of the dark flagstone, the overhead patio lights that had been jimmy rigged for halfway down the stairs. How acidic the air tasted that deep into the ground. His scars glowing through his t-shirt.

"Shhh," he pressed his forehead into my shoulder. "Go back to sleep."

But now I was wide awake. I forced myself to sit up, pressed my hands over my mouth and let it wash over me. A memory. A memory of the tomb. Wasn't it? Pieces started to stitch together in my brain. Cole's lifeless eyes staring back up at me. The hallway that sloped downward toward the door to the tomb. My ruined clothes, covered in blood and grime and gore. The stairs. The endless stairs we took down into the ground. And Stellan's scars. I looked over at him, still mostly asleep as he scrunched his eyes and rubbed his face. We were mostly in shadows, just my side table lamp illuminating our room. I realized he must have left it on for me when he came to bed. I let one of my hands go and carefully reached out to touch him. I ran the tip of my pointer finger, feather-light, across one of the scars on his shoulder that was peeking out from his t-shirt. He cleared his throat and opened his eyes, staring at me, and it thudded into my chest. It was real.

"They glowed," I whispered. I traced the scar again.

"What?" He shifted on the bed so he could get a better look at me.

"In the tomb. They glowed." I continued but snatched my hand back. His eyes went wide as he inhaled sharply, moving away from me in the process. Oh god, I was right. Wasn't I? What did that mean? My blood pulsed with adrenaline, but my body still felt sluggish with sleep. We stared at each other for a breathless minute until I couldn't take it anymore and pressed my hands over my eyes this time. What was real? What wasn't? He looked so terrified it made me think I was right, and yet how could that be real? How could someone glow? He shifted in the bed next to me and I dropped my hands as he propped up against the headboard, looking awake but exhausted now.

"Please. Just tell me the truth." I quickly whispered. "Is this part of a nightmare or real? It feels so real. Like a memory. Am I going to remember everything?"

"Not everything." He answered looking at the comforter. It made all the nerves in my stomach shake out across the rest of my body.

"Why?" I demanded.

"Because I don't either." He looked over at me, the terror gone in his face, but his eyes still wide and so blue. "They told me you won't...I won't...remember everything."

"But your…" I pushed. He nodded and cut over me like if he waited he'd lose the nerve.

"They glowed." He whispered. "And it terrified you."

"No." I automatically replied.

"Yes." He countered. "It's one of the last things I remember."

"Do they still…" I trailed off as my eyes ran over the lines of his shoulders in the dark, half expecting them to glow, just like the memory. He shook his head,

"I think it was just the one time."

"Was it part of the ritual?" I guessed. It was all still blank for me. Now with this new piece being slowly weaved back into the memories of that day I was greedy to have more. What happened after that? What did he remember? What part of this might we both never know?

"What else do you remember?" I pushed.

"I'm not supposed to prompt you. It can give you…" he started and I locked eyes with him as he slowly stopped.

"Tell me." I pressed. He took a deep breath and slumped even more into the headboard as he exhaled.

"Blood."

He held up his left hand and I saw the faint scar there, across his palm. He moved his scarred hand up my injured arm until it was on my bicep, where my own matching wound was hiding on the underside of my arm. He pulled his hand back, setting it in the space between us.

"To open the tomb," I said. I didn't remember this, yet. But that much was obvious. "What else?"

"That's when it gets patchy for me. I remember that I was in pain and your face."

His shoulders started to tighten, he looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. Like the car ride back from the hospital. It clicked into place for me, another reason he kept his distance. If that was the last thing he remembered no wonder he seemed to keep doubting my love for him.

I lifted the covers so I could slide flush against him in spite of his stiffness. I pressed my forehead to his shoulder and he relaxed, letting out a light hum as he exhaled. I kissed his arm before saying against the thin fabric of his shirt,

"I could never be terrified of you, Stellan. Only for you."

"I know." He leaned his head against my own. It was a little heavy and uncomfortable but after days of him seeming to avoid touching me, I'd take anything.

I wanted to ask him more, push him to reveal all his murky memories, reveal what had happened during my hospital stays. But I also didn't want to break apart this uninterrupted calming stillness between us. We were only ever completely alone here in this bed. It had quickly become this little island of intimacy I never wanted to leave but often found myself marooned on. If he was awake and here with me, I didn't want to jeopardize that by prodding into him about things he'd rather forget. At least for now. Especially when being this close to him was making me calm back down. It felt like I could absorb all the calm he always exuded whenever our skin could touch.

Slowly we started to slink back down into the bed until I'd managed to wedge myself into his side using his arm like a pillow. He yawned above me, making me yawn as well and I glanced at the clock to see it was still a little too early - just before 5 AM. I'd only been here since Monday and I'd startled him awake twice now.

"I'm sorry I keep waking you up. I swear I'm not usually such an abusive sleeper." I said snuggling in deeper to absorb all his body heat.

"It's fine." He smiled and I resisted the urge to touch the corner of where his mouth turned up. "Honestly, I don't really have a point of reference."

"Of people slapping you awake?" I joked. His smile broadened, showing a quick flash of teeth before he replied,

"Of anything but my alarm waking me up."

"You've never had someone spend the night?" I asked, perplexed. I untangled myself from the position I'd managed to dig in to so I could get a better look at him. I could have sworn I saw a flush start to creep up his neck. He looked up at the ceiling and answered,

"Never."

"But…" I started and then stopped. Maybe one revelation at a time. I wasn't even sure if I wanted to know this information. The past should be the past. Especially at 5 AM. I flipped onto my back staring up at the crown molding when he surprised me by saying,

"At first I was in the dorms so it didn't really matter. But once I had my own room I didn't feel a need to."

He trailed off with no intention of picking back up. But I could piece it together. I saw it in my mind's eye. His sparse, all white, sterile room. If he woke up alone he wouldn't forget what he needed to do to escape.

"Comfort breeds complacency." I finished for him.

He turned, his face a mix of surprise and wonder like I'd just read his mind. I gave him a tentative smile, I hadn't meant to alarm him, I just understood him. Or at least was trying to. He rolled toward me, reaching forward to tuck some hair behind my ear.

"I wanted to save this." He ran his fingers down the length, twisting it as he made it to the end. "And here you are."

I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to hide. I wanted to laugh. I felt like I had to hug my chest to keep myself together. Because I was all those things at once and they were expanding inside me fighting for dominance. He wasn't looking away either, holding my gaze as he gently tugged at the bottom of my hair again. Something was going to win this battle in my chest and burst past my lips and I had no idea which one.

How do you even respond to something like that? It was hopelessly romantic, which I hadn't thought he was. It was incredibly intimate as well, this deeply personal confession that felt so important I wanted to somehow wrap my shaky hands around it and protect it. My nerves won out this round and I felt the blush heat my cheeks. I licked my lips to stall on my response, breaking the eye contact that was making my stomach a mess of swirling knots. My mind was blanking in my panic, I didn't know what to do with this. I wished I had some kind of soulful confession to give him as well - but I couldn't have imagined this life if I'd had lifetimes to dream it.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._ We both sat up to look at his bedside table and the alarm making his phone vibrate against the wood. Relief washed over me in one huge wave, making me flop back onto the mattress.

"Who sets an alarm for 5 AM?" I laughed, more from my relief than the circumstance.

"Habit." He answered as he turned it off, shifting toward his edge of the bed as if he was going to actually start getting ready.

I grabbed a fistful of his t-shirt at his lower back pulling it as hard as I could. "Stay."

He paused and I wondered if he was the one that wanted to hide now. I couldn't blame him when I'd had nothing to say in response. But maybe if I had enough uninterrupted time I could cobble something together. Or better yet, show him. I tugged again, "I'm not going to see you until tonight according to my overlord."

He looked over his shoulder at me, a rueful smile forming as he asked, "Elodie?"

"Our color-coded schedules on my phone," I answered. He leaned back onto the bed, trapping my hand against the small of his back.

"It is a busy day." He rationalized, but there was this playful edge to it. Like he could be convinced to stay. I had to try harder. He was so tall that his head was pretty close to me despite the size of this giant bed. I brought my free hand up to slowly rake through his hair and he closed his eyes with a contented sigh. _Ok,_ I coached myself, _moving in the right direction_.

"Tell me something," I started, lightly scratching my fingernails across his scalp. He let out a long hum in response. "Before your days were filled with endless appointments like now, what did you do in your spare time?"

Eyes still closed he pressed his lips together as he thought about it before replying, "there wasn't a lot of it."

"There had to be some," I said. I made another pass through his hair and he opened his eyes and shifted so we were face to face, but made a point of keeping my hand trapped under him.

"Cleaned my guns, worked out, FIFA, sleep."

I couldn't stop my disapproving reaction, frowning as I laughed, "god you're boring."

He pressed his weight into my arm in retaliation and I let out a groan. "You?"

"Oh, so many things," I answered attempting to yank my hand out. He rolled closer making it harder. "I have endless hobbies. It filled the time. And my Netflix queue."

I tried to yank again and he shimmied deeper into the mattress, putting his full weight into it, my fingers going numb. I dawned on me, to the point that I was almost dumbfounded by how oblivious I could be at times. He wanted me to fight back, or more accurately flirt back with him. This was what I wanted, right? Flirting, connection, attention, the chance to attempt to tell him I felt the same way.

"Ah, yes," he smiled. "I must know what happened with the boy who doesn't smile and his many girlfriends."

My indignation spurred enough effort to get my hand out and I shoved the shoulder closest to me, "you loved the OC. You're the one that wanted to watch more."

"It's cute that you think I was actually watching it." He quickly replied. I felt my eyes go wide with my fangirl anger,

"Oh, and what were you watching then?"

"You." He smiled, that beautiful one I always wanted to touch. _You really set him up for that one, didn't you,_ I chastised myself. But instead of attempting to hide the blush I knew was blooming up from my chest I reached forward and carefully traced his bottom lip with the tip of my pointer finger. When I pulled my finger back his smile turned into a smolder. His eyes ran over my face and down to the blush and I felt it pulse between us. There was something about me blushing that always sparked his lust. I had no idea why, but if the goal of this was flirting I could use that to my advantage.

"Cats or dogs?" I asked sliding my palm flat against my exposed collarbones and chest, hiding it all from him.

"Are you really," he grumbled, eyes narrowing at my covering hand.

"Yes." I brightly replied. He reached forward and tugged at my pointer finger, attempting to move my hand.

"Dogs," he quickly answered. I pressed my palm harder into my chest.

"Really?" I asked. His answer surprised me. He tried again and I let him have a little peek at it as he nodded.

"Luc has cats. They hate me and I hate them."

"Wait," I dropped my hand in surprise. His fingers immediately went for the blush. His thumb and pointer dragging so slowly across my collarbones to the hollow of my neck that it made a rush of goosebumps ignite across my skin. "Luc has cats? That seems very dangerous given where he lives."

"They have a cat wrangler." He said, focusing on his fingers instead of me.

"Stop!" I gaped at him and started laughing. He nodded and I pushed the flirting further by shifting toward him so his fingers would slip under the fabric of my pajama shirt. He trailed them over the top swell of my breasts and I pulled back far enough that he lost contact with my skin.

"And you?" He asked, finally looking back up at my face. Being this close I could see his pupils had widened, the gold ring barely showing before the sea of blue and the knowledge that I'd done that to him made a pulse of lust throb in between my thighs.

"I'd have to say dogs too. But not the really tiny ones. A respectable-sized dog."

"What does that look like?" He smiled and I leaned forward and kissed the corner of it like I'd been dying to do for weeks now. I pulled back and he followed, ready for more, but I wasn't done with all this deliciously satisfying flirting. I murmured millimeters away from his lips,

"I'll know it when I see it."

I rolled away from him onto my back and his lips instead found the shell of my ear, then right behind it, and finally a line of deliberately firm kisses across my jaw. He paused at my mouth and everything inside me tingled in anticipation. I knew exactly where this was going and I wasn't ready to give up this game.

"Star Wars or Star Trek?" I lowly asked.

"Avery," he chuckled and ducked his head into the crook of my neck. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I fought the urge to groan with satisfaction. He'd really laid the accent thick on my name and it was endlessly sexy to me. No one would ever be able to make my boring name sound as exotic as he did. His lips pressed against my collarbones and I felt my brain start to fuzz off, wondering why I'd fought so hard in the first place.

"It was a very polarizing question at every high school I attended." I struggled to say, breathy as my heart started to beat harder. His hand moved down my waist toward my hip.

"What's your answer?" He stalled, slipping his thumb under the waistband of my pajama bottoms to circle my hip bone. All while his soft, lingering, kisses made a trail back up toward my lips.

"Nope." I exhaled, all the endorphins flooding back into my bloodstream. The lust was about to win this battle along with all the anticipatory adrenaline that was making my heart flutter fast under my ribs. "That might make you change yours."

"That implies you think I'm lying to you." He said against the side of my neck, lips sliding against the sensitive skin there and making another flash of goosebumps rush down my entire right side. He slid closer, gently nudging me to roll onto my left side as he curled around me.

"Same time," I said my voice sounding strained even to me. He shifted into place behind me with a small buck from his hips that slid his hard-on against my ass. He carefully raked away the hair at the back of my neck as his fingers trailed further and further under my waistband. Everything was thrumming in my chest and swirling in my brain as I managed, "three, two, one."

"Star Wars," he pressed into my skin and then bit down at the nape of my neck at the same moment his fingers circled around their intended target between my thighs. I'd barely been able to suck in a short breath before I exhaled,

"Star Wa…"

I dropped off, lost in the intensity of the moment. If I'd been standing up I think my knees would have given out. The sharp pain from his bite juxtaposed against the careful pressure over my panties made my already straining heart start to make this flip-flop motion in my chest. The world spun. He was whispering things into my hair, I couldn't catch my breath, my body flushed hot, a prickle of sweat sliding uncomfortably over me. As he centered his focus on my clit the flip-flop, flip-flop in my chest made it even harder to struggle a breath into my lungs. Something was wrong.

He picked up on it immediately and froze behind me then dropped me like I was white hot. "What's wrong?"

"Can't," I struggled to say, sucking in another painful, short breath.

"_Merde_," he snapped off anxiously and flew into action. The covers were kicked off us, he moved away and I rolled onto my back, it only made the chest pain and lack of oxygen worse. That didn't last for more than a second, however, because he was suddenly kneeling over me and then muscling me up to sitting, pushing me against the headboard. His terrified eyes poured over me as he forced my arms over my head, just like he'd done in the car, and waited while straddling my lap.

I could barely stand to look at him, his eyes were too intense and I was past mortified. I slid mine closed and tried to focus on my breathing instead. His fingers pressed into the pulse at my neck and I tried to shake him off, needing space, needing to hide. It was futile. I was still too weak and he was so worked up he was doing the conversion math for my BPM in whispered Russian.

"Please," I heaved, "get off me."

"Save your breath," he said as he complied. But it was the way he said it, this edge of terror and hardness that made me open my eyes to look at him. He was sheet white, fists clenched, eyes wide and scared, as if my next breath would somehow shatter me. As if to add insult to injury my bad arm started to ache. Because of course, I'd get some random arm cramp to make this even more intense.

"Are you," I sucked in my first deep breath, "okay?"

"I should call the doctor." He ignored my question and started to lean toward his phone across the bed. I dropped my hands with a thump to the sheets,

"Just...my heart." I tried to pacify in between my struggling breaths.

"Exactly." He leaned again and I feebly threw one of the small pillows at him to make him stop. It fell short but he finally sat down on the bed, eyes still detailing me.

"It happens a lot," I said in one breath and paused to take another. He gave me a disapproving frown and opened his mouth to speak when I held up a finger, "PT, exercise. Never this bad though."

"Of course." He shook his head and looked down at his hands, spinning his ring around his finger.

My words echoed back into my slowly clearing head and I wanted to scream. If only I'd had the breath too. That's not what I'd meant. I would have gladly let my heart give out before I would have stopped him and what that was leading toward. It was so hard to articulate into words for him, let alone say them out loud, but I felt it every time he touched me. Aching lust, settling calm, protective comfort - all things that would come over me whenever I felt his hands. My life had become this constant state of chaos and destruction that even he had been subjected to, but in his hands, I always felt safe. I needed his hands. I needed the ones that guided me, the ones that helped me, and the ones that satisfied me. We couldn't let our dark destiny take that from us.

My heart was still hammering so hard I was almost sure he could hear it in this quiet, but my breath was finally coming back down. As the silence stretched out between us I felt the angry, bitter, tears start to rise over all my mortification and frustration. The spilled down my face fast and hot and when they plunked onto the comforter he looked up, concerned.

I sniffled hard before thickly saying, "it's not fair."

"_Kuklachka_," he whispered, the regret in his eyes almost breaking apart my aching heart and crawled toward me on the bed. When he was close enough he cupped my face in his hands and murmured against my forehead, "_ya znayu_. I know."

As he wiped the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs I blinked away the last of them as his forehead kisses calmed me down. I sucked in a shaky breath and miserably said, "sorry."

"Don't be." He replied, landing a final kiss on my forehead before pulling back so I could see him. "We just have to be patient."

"Okay," I nodded, my face still in his hands. He tilted my chin up and pressed the softest kiss to my lips. It was far too short and he released me completely when he pulled away sitting back on his side of the bed.

_Buzz. Buzz. Buzz._

"A second alarm?" I asked as he reached over and shut it off. He smiled,

"There has been a very cuddly distraction this week that has been luring me back to bed."

"Hmm," I pretended to contemplate this as I wiped the last of my tears away.

"I have a meeting at Oxford with some of the Order. But you should go back to sleep before your Saxon meeting."

"I'm not sleepy." I countered, "I could come with you, see the Great Hall?"

"What?" He shook his head and I didn't bother to clarify the reference, "do me this favor, please." He gave me a look I was almost positive he'd used on an obstinate Anya before. "Let your body rest."

"Yes, Dad." I gave him an annoyed look that he promptly threw a pillow at as he moved off the bed toward the bathroom. He'd barely turned the shower on when my eyes started to slide closed.

_RING. RING. RING._

I slapped at the covers trying to find my phone before rolling toward it and shutting off the alarm. The room was now full of morning sunshine, and empty. I grabbed my phone and opened the locator app, watching as the world at large zeroed down to a moving blue dot, right outside of Oxford. I doubted he was driving and debated texting him at all. This morning had been pretty intense, but also wonderful in a way I'd always wanted with him. A connection, just between the two of us, building with each stolen moment. I decided to see if he'd still play along if we weren't in the bed.

_My nap is over._

The text bubble popped up immediately and my heart swelled with excitement.

_And I bet you feel better._

_So you're Dr. Dad now?_

_One of us has to be._

I let out a burst of laughter into the room and rolled out of the bed making my way toward the bathroom.

_I wasn't done asking you questions._

_Proceed lyubov' moya._

I smiled at seeing one of my nicknames in writing. I was also extremely grateful he hadn't written it in actual Russian because I might be picking up words and phrases but deciphering that written language looked intense. Sitting down at the edge of the tub I thought about all the asinine things I wanted to ask him. Silly questions, vapid questions, anything light and easy to keep this connection building between us.

_Have your own private island or jet?_

_We already own jets. _

_Come to think of it I'm pretty sure you own an island now_

_NO WAY!_

I almost dropped the phone, and then made a mental note of possibly bringing this up at 9 AM. It would be my first, official, Saxon meeting as the new head of the house. When I'd tried to pry more information out of Jack about it he'd just shrugged claiming he'd never been invited to them before. I didn't believe him. My phone buzzed in my hands and I looked down to see that Stellan had sent me a picture of a golden Labrador Retriever. I could have kissed the phone. He remembered. He wanted to do this just as much as I did. I knew right then that I was going to spend my magazine research time usefully and look up some stupid article about questions to ask your boyfriend because I was going to be doing this all day.

_Too big._

_Hmmmm_

* * *

I'd hurried through my shower and then wandered my cavernous closet for a little too long deliberating what would be appropriate for my first official meeting. I was surprised Elodie hadn't already picked for me. But I was coming to realize that all her tasks were publicity and Order related and Jack's were Saxon and Circle. I resisted the urge to text her and instead opted for a cowl neck belted sheath dress that hit at my knee. I wasn't thrilled with the three quarter length sleeves that wouldn't hide my scar, but the deep black color seemed professional looking. Slipping into the smallest heel height shoes I could find I'd glanced at my phone again to see if Stellan had texted me while I was getting ready. He hadn't, but then again he'd probably already started his meeting with the Order. I checked myself in the mirror one last time, my hair down and slightly curled at the ends and my makeup very light. I was ready, and I really wished that Stellan was here. Maybe I could send him a question to answer later? I looked up a list of those ridiculous first date questions and laughed to myself at one halfway down the page.

_Be a ninja or a pirate?_

His reply bubble popped up instantly and I couldn't stop the giant smile that spread across my face as I made my way out of our room toward the meeting.

_I'm already a ninja._

_You wish._

_I am._

_Ninja's don't get clobbered by chairs._

_And yet I still saved you._

_Is that how it happened?_

_That day is fuzzy, I'd been clobbered by a chair._

"Ugh!" I groaned at the phone and then laughed. I slid through a list of eye rolling gifs and sent him one in response. I paused in the hallway before the door to the private solar room. I only knew it was the right place because Elodie, in a rare show of mercy, had left a note on the location that just said red door. Nerves fluttered in my stomach and I fiddled with my belt trying to calm myself. I wasn't exactly sure what this meeting was going to entail. My phone buzzed in my hand and the distraction made it all ease a bit from my chest.

_What about you?_

_Pirate. No contest. _

_You get to fight, hoard gold and drink._

_You also get scurvy and seasick._

Behind the door, I could hear a low buzz of noise, voices, and shifting. I really had to do this alone? Even Jack couldn't be here for this? I looked up and down the hall again hoping someone was going to magically appear. I squared my shoulders and took a settling breath when my phone buzzed again. Stellan had sent a picture of a pure white Samoyed. I smiled, calm setting over all my turbulent nerves and texted back,

_No...too fluffy._

I locked my phone and opened the door.

The private solar room, it turned out, had very little to do with sunlight. I would have actually called it the private library. A grandiose dark mahogany desk was the first thing you laid eyes on. Complete with an intricately carved Saxon compass on the front panel and a black leather chair that sat empty. Behind it was ancient looking books in matching bindings of burgundy and halcyon. Several of the shelves had small pieces of marble sculpture or fragile looking vases in blue and white. To the left was a giant window that ran from floor to ceiling. There were gorgeous blue and purple mosaic tiled stained glass that bookended the left and right of the window, spilling colors across the hardwood floor. As if all that wasn't enough there was an actual map of the world that covered the entire ceiling of the room. I felt my mouth drop open a little as I took it in, it seemed like one of antiquity, not the current world maps. Anya had definitely not shown me this room on her tour. Someone cleared their throat and I looked to my right to see five people standing at attention, their hands behind their backs.

"Your Majesty," Gemma bowed her head and the remaining four followed suit. It twinged in my chest again. I really didn't want people to call me that. But that didn't seem like a mistake to correct in front of everyone in my first few minutes in. Gemma gestured toward the desk and I clicked across the floor and pulled out the chair. As I settled in Gemma shut the door and everyone filed in front of me and waited.

"Good morning." I smiled at her and went to lean my elbows on the desk and settle in when I remembered that would probably be bad manners. I pushed my chair back a little so I wouldn't be tempted and folded my hands in my lap.

"Please allow me to introduce you to the private household staff. The five of us are the only ones that have access to this wing of the house." She explained and then moved to the single man of the group. "Terence Roberts is the head of security here at Riberton Hall. He ensures the safety of the perimeter as well as the staff and coordinates with both the Keeper and your eventual Keeper of the Keys. You might be interested to know that it was Roberts that endorsed Mr. Bishop for Keeper candidacy."

That was surprising. I felt my eyebrows rise on my face but forced myself not to say anything. Terence Roberts took a step out and gave me another bow. Like Gemma he was older, his hair turning silver, though that was the only thing that looked like it had aged. His black suit was cut perfectly and showcased his medium build and the hint of strength under the clothes. As he stepped back into line our eyes briefly met and I caught a flash of intensity that made me uncomfortable. But Gemma had already moved on bringing forward a middle-aged, slightly pudgy woman with mousy brown hair,

"Elizabeth Wright, household chief. She studied at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and has been working with your medical team on your diet restrictions."

Elizabeth gave me a hasty nod before sliding back into place. Gemma gestured toward the final two in the group. One was another middle-aged woman, her black hair pulled back into a severe-looking bun and a woman who seemed closer to my age bracket, though still older than me with wavy brown hair that was pulled back into an intricate looking twist. They were both small and petite and I bet if they had the same hair color I couldn't have told them apart from the back.

"Maria Lewis and Julia Clarke, housekeepers."

Really Lewis and Clarke? I stifled a laugh. I wasn't sure which one was which and before I could ask they'd both bowed, turned and left with Elizabeth. As the door shut behind them Gemma and Roberts moved closer to the desk.

"The Friday Household Meeting has been a tradition with the Saxons for five generations. We are honored to see the legacy continue with yourself." Gemma politely started as Roberts locked his hands behind his back and settled into his heels his eyes neither looking directly at me nor around me. I tried to shift my focus back to Gemma. "It's a way to keep you informed of the goings on about the Hall without burdening you and your Circle obligations."

So there it was. These five people were the only ones that knew about the Circle, and these two were possibly the only ones that knew why Stellan and I were here in the first place. Roberts intensity suddenly made sense. I nodded and Gemma continued,

"Ms. Fontaine and I have been coordinating the calendars for all your upcoming events both abroad and here at Riberton."

This time I couldn't help myself and shot in, "have you?"

Gemma stopped, a little startled by me saying something and I realized Elodie probably wasn't a judgy harpy to her - only me. I pressed my lips together to stop myself from saying anything else and nodded for her to continue.

"Fortunately, you've arrived at the slowest part of the year here. We are past _The Season_ and most of the household chores have already been managed in preparation for Fall. Though I wanted to make you aware of the timber cladding inspection and mortar repairs that will be happening on the East wing second floor in the coming week."

I had no idea what she'd just said to me, but I nodded as if I did. It was becoming abundantly clear that even though she thought I was a Queen, Gemma ruled this household and I was tremendously grateful for that. Gemma glanced over at Roberts and he cleared his throat before briskly saying,

"Mr. Bishop and I have but two vacancies left to screen in your valet. This will be completed by next weeks end."

"Thank you, Terence." Gemma gave him a tight smile and with a bow, he also left the room. "Is there anything you'd like me to address for you?"

My mind blanked for a minute. I hadn't even been here a week, how could I possibly have something for her to do? I looked down at my hands, spinning my diamond around my finger and it flooded me,

"Oh!" I nearly shouted. Gemma startled and then gave me a warm smile, waiting for me to continue. "Would it be possible to redo the master bedroom? What would that entail exactly?"

"Of course," Gemma brightened, seemingly excited by the task. "I will take inventory and report back to you. Have you any preferences on interior design?"

"Not yet, just not...that." I stupidly answered. I was glad no one else was here to witness that. Gemma took it in stride however and merely nodded. As she straightened and started to turn to leave she paused and I felt a flop of uneasiness stir in my stomach. She took two steps until she was almost touching the desk, her fingers floating above the surface, and quietly said,

"If it isn't too forward I would like to give my condolences to you for your mother."

The unease froze within me as I felt everything harden to stop the rush of emotions trying to escape. The grief and flashes of anger pushed against the containment walls I'd created inside my chest to house them. I felt myself go stiff as Gemma continued in a hushed tone,

"I remember her time here. She was always such a bright spot, incandescent and giving. We were saddened by her sudden departure, but it had obviously been for important reasons."

Gemma gave me a sad smile and with another bow closed the door behind herself with a soft click. I tried to breathe through everything raging in my chest. My grief and now my panic battling it out in waves. Because of course, Gemma would have known my mother, she was a private maid here, that's how she'd met my father in the first place. And now here I was, sitting at the desk in this pretentious mini library he'd probably used only a few months ago all while he was still…

I stopped the thought and grabbed my phone needing the distraction, copying and pasting the next question on my list of first date questions for Stellan. Realizing only after I'd sent it that either my subconscious was evil or karma was after me.

_Fulfill your biggest wish or resolve your biggest regret_

There wasn't an immediate bubble back so I set the phone down on the desk and leaned back in the chair taking in the rest of the room. The wall to my right housed polished wood bookshelves from floor to ceiling. These ones held a mix of books in varying colors and heights, all tightly packed together on each row. Above me, the chandelier sparkled in the shifting morning light. I glared at it. Who had a chandelier in a private library? I looked back down at the phone and realized I'd probably asked too dark a question. This was supposed to be light and fun and my hasty need to distract myself from the storm in my chest had derailed it all. I went to lock the phone and saw his bubble pop up.

_I can't resolve my biggest regret, so I guess wish._

I was pretty sure I knew what his biggest regret was, but I wasn't going to ask. I didn't, however, have a single idea about what his biggest wish would be. I felt the smile start to form as I texted back,

_Which is?_

_Swim in a pool of M&Ms. _

_What?! No way. LOL_

_I thought of it when I was 9. _

_The wasteful uselessness of it still intrigues me._

_I bet we could make it happen for you. _

_All orange M&Ms._

_Which is why I love you._

Reading that made a soft gasp pull into my chest. He'd told me this, many times now, but it was different to see it in writing. It was also so casually tossed in as if this was something he said to me constantly. All the turbulence in my chest started to slide back down into the cage I'd been hiding it in. Maybe this mistake would work in my favor after all. My phone buzzed again and I looked down to see a picture of a Shetland Sheepdog.

_Nope. Sheds too much._

_So now there are parameters? _

_I thought it was just no small dogs._

_You don't want hair on you all the time._

_Your turn._

My biggest regret was not answering my mother's calls. I knew it would haunt me for the rest of my life. When it would get very quiet around this pretentious palace I could hear her voice warning me to stay away, begging me to call her back. Her hurried, hushed tone so unlike any way she'd ever spoken to me before that I should have known. _I should have known._ And now I'd never get to say I loved her ever again. I didn't have to tell him all this, but I should be honest.

_I think we have the same regret_

_I'm sure we do_

_Then my biggest wish is to learn to drive._

_Now that can be granted - today even._

_In a fast car?_

_In a very expensive fast car…_

_I love you._


	8. Chapter 7

"My arm hurt again this morning," I said, dropping the dumbbell to the mat and rolling my wrist.

Sadist Rebecca's bright smile quirked downward as she puzzled this out, shifting back and forth on her feet in thought. I locked my fingers and pulled them high above my head, stretching out all the tired muscles.

"Perhaps you slept on it wrong?" She offered up and paused in her constant movement to add, "you really shouldn't have much scar pain left. We're through the PT part of your injury, now it's just strength training due to the atrophy."

"Right," I nodded and walked over to the bench to sit down for a moment. That, of course, spurred the base nature of my tormenter and she bounced over offering her hands so I could stand back up.

"We still have your cardio!"

"Can I skip it today?" I begged. She shook her head and jogged toward the treadmill punching in things and starting it for me. The slow slogging sound of the belt filled the gym around us.

"Of course not. Need to get that heart back in order." Sadist Rebecca smiled in response. I'd never been athletic. Mostly out of necessity from my constant moving but also because I'd rather be doing other things. So the fact that I'd walked more miles since waking from a coma than I had in my entire life was starting to grate on me. I had to get out of this today. The reason materialized so quickly in my brain that I jumped on it.

"That's the thing," I leaned onto the bench, eyeing the treadmill before glancing up at her waiting face, "I had a bit of an episode this morning. My chest still hurts."

"What were you doing?" Sadist Rebecca asked, her eyes going wide with actual concern for me. _Shit._ Now I needed a reason and I'd die before I told her the real one. I slowly stood up, slipping into my jacket to kill some time. The belts constant whooshing sound punctuating the silence.

"I was," I paused and blurted out the first lie my brain could think of, "chasing Anya."

"That shouldn't really," she started I cut over her, panicking about building out the lie,

"She's really fast. She's 7. I felt so good I thought I could do it, but it just went wrong really fast."

"I understand your impatience but you really should make sure your heart is healthy enough for exertion like that." Sadist Rebecca frowned at me and then reached behind herself to shut off the treadmill. Somehow her words reminded me of a Viagra commercial and my memory of this mornings mortification started to make my skin flush.

"But isn't that what all these miles are for?" I jutted my chin toward the row of exercise machines behind her. She started nodding and my irritation flared. I could tell she was about to launch into one of her uplifting speeches about how far I'd come and the road ahead. I didn't need a lecture about this today, and to avoid it I yanked my hair thing from my sloppy, low, ponytail and flipped my head over gathering it all back into a messy bun on the top of my head. We met eyes as I finished off the bun and she gave me the most peculiar look before answering,

"We're building you up to HIIT training. You have to get to a steady 20 minutes of exercise first."

"And how long is that going to take?" I grumpily replied. She smiled again, brightly, and even though her eyes were kind I could tell she was trying to hold back her laughter at my indignation. I felt the flush crawl up my chest and zipped up my jacket hoping it wouldn't make it to my face. She carefully answered,

"That's up to you, Avery."

She zipped up her own jacket and quickly jogged over to the lights, turning them all off. The gym had an entire wall of windows that let in quite a bit of sunshine, but we were on the wrong side of the property to have it be the only source.

"We're done?" I asked, hopeful. She nodded.

"Just promise me you'll think about your heart before you go...chasing children again." She winked as she held the door open for me. I quickly slid past her and started walking backward toward the private wing as I held up my first three fingers, thumb touching my pinkie,

"Scouts honor."

Her face quirked into confusion and I realized they might not have Boy Scouts here, but I didn't wait to explain. I turned around and hurried away, pulling out my phone as I did. Out of respect for Sadist Rebecca I always made a point to keep my phone silent and hidden during our sessions, but now I was overcome with excitement to see if Stellan had texted me during my hour-long PT. There was a picture of a Collie and then another text bubble with six question marks. I paused in the hallway to text back,

_Our neighbor in Texas had one._

_They bark way too much._

There wasn't an immediate reply so I locked the phone and tucked it into my pocket. I took a cursory glance around the hallway to make sure I was going the right way and continued back toward the private wing. During my hasty breakfast after my Saxon household meeting Lewis and Clarke, had informed me of everyone's schedule before I booked it to PT. Elodie was off doing dubious errands, again. Jack was escorting Anya to her tutor and then her riding lesson. Colette had a meeting in the morning but would be returning in the afternoon. I pulled out my phone and checked the time - she should be back by now. I found the door and slipped inside.

She was lounging, leisurely, on one of the leather couches in the private living room glued to her phone, with glossy magazines and rumpled newspapers surrounding her. I'd never understood how she could make even casual sitting look glamorous. I shifted, uncomfortable in my own skin. She looked up with a bright smile for me,

"Your Majesty." She winked. I looked down at my yoga pants and completely zipped up black hoodie and rose an eyebrow at her. She set her phone down, picking up a magazine and mockingly intoned, "it's not the crown that makes the Queen."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed a magazine off the top of the stack, flopping onto the opposite side of the couch from her. While I still had yet to be updated on what, exactly, was happening with the Order, I took my Circle task very seriously. I'd comb through everything that was put in front of me and endlessly scroll through flagged sites for hours every day looking for my face on the page. My disappearing and reappearing act from the public eye didn't seem to stop any of the speculation and gossip that was being run through the rumor mill on these rags. So I continued to look through all that garbage, dutifully, because at least it was something to contribute. Maybe if I did it well enough I could actually do something that would create new content for all this work. I didn't know how much longer I could just hang out here like a captive. It felt like I just kept moving from one prison to the next.

I turned a page and saw my face, earmarked the corner, and then loudly groaned at the headline:

_West Continues Fight For Her Life_

They had obviously photoshopped a previous picture to make me look anemic and frail. I angrily flipped the page.

"You have to control the narrative," Colette said in a little sing-song voice, teasing me.

"What does that even mean? And does it have to be one where I'm some fragile little doll that is about to snap from the pressure?" I tossed the magazine aside and picked up the next one.

"Isn't that Stellan's nick…" She started and I shot her a look.

"Don't go there," I warned. She smirked down at her magazine.

"It's not just you." She held a magazine out to me, folded over to highlight an article. "All Circle Families have their turn in the spotlight. Michiyo Mikado has been dodging this story for a few months now."

I looked down at the article. Michiyo was in a series of photos, each highlighting the fact that her stomach was growing larger. The headline read,

_Mikado Pregnant With Love Child_

"Is she really pregnant?" I looked up at Colette.

"Yes," Colette smiled, slyly, at me.

"What is it?" I pushed, instantly pulled in by the gossip. I mentally slapped myself. Wasn't that what I was just bitching about? I was as bad as the rest of the Circle.

"She's not saying who the father is. Publicly or privately." Colette glanced down at the picture again. "I think it's the Keepers."

"NO!" I sucked in a scandalized breath. Colette laughed and I pressed my lips together and tried to regroup. "Why would that be a bad thing?"

"Heirs are important. Since Takumi was," she paused as the memory washed over me. There was a beat between us before she continued, "this could be the future of their Family. She's unmarried and if it had been an affair with another Circle member that's one thing. But if it's actually the Keeper's baby it taints their Family. This wouldn't have really mattered before, but now with Takumi gone, it does. I'm actually very surprised she kept it. Usually, mistakes like that are...taken care of."

Shock and disgust rolled through me. Taken care of? Who had the right to demand that of her? What if she wanted to keep this baby because she was in love with whomever the father was? What if she wanted the baby because she wanted a baby - like my mother had wanted me? No one should be able to command something that invasive of her. No matter what she wanted to do it was her choice to make, no one else's. And the fact that it all hinged on wither her baby would be a boy or not burned me with anger. Why should it matter if it is a boy? Wasn't she capable of leading their Family? Everyone sure as shit thought I was. Why only me? Because of some genetic mutation of my eyes? It was such patriarchal backward bullshit it spiked my anger further.

Colette took notice of this and slid the magazine back toward herself. Her voice was carefully controlled as she said,

"It doesn't have to be that way you know. If we can control our worth we can control our power."

"What could I possibly do?" I asked. But I already knew. I was caught with a Keeper in the height of my initial Circle fame. I was 'married' to another Keeper in my building 13th Family legend. Neither time ended with any kind of reprimand because of the power some ancient mandate had given me. I could make choices other women in the Circle couldn't because of all this power. Maybe it was time I shared the wealth. Colette folded her hands in her lap before she answered,

"You should invite her for tea. It might ease things for her to be in your favor. I'm sure she'll have plenty of ideas to present to you. Especially on public personas."

"I will." I smiled at Colette in return and she absolutely beamed at me. We both looked back down at my face spread across all these articles and I let out a quick, tense, breath between my teeth. Colette patted the glossy pages a few times,

"Everyone loves an underdog. That's why your public persona is being built this way. Like a Phoenix, you rise from the ashes of each setback, reborn and stronger."

I pretended to gag and Colette laughed, really laughed, for a long moment before finally finishing with, "it's not a bad narrative to have. I would know, it's tied together with mine."

"What do you mean?"

"Ahh, see, I am," she held up her fingers to air quote, "taking a break from acting to reevaluate my life. It's creating drama about if and when I'll come back. Which will then feed into my performance levels. So all I have to do is pick some Oscar bait and I'll emerge a survivor with a golden statue to prove it."

"That's how people get Oscars?!" I balked at her. She rose her eyebrows and looked down at her magazine. My words echoed back and I quickly stumbled all over myself, "that's not what I...you know I love your...I'm an idiot…"

"Avery," she leaned forward and patted my leg, "I know. Thank you."

I fanned the magazine across my bright red face. "But doesn't it get daunting to have to be so many people all the time? You're a superstar, and a Dauphin, and 13th, and my friend. You're all those things and each of those things. I just don't know how to separate them all. Or why I should."

"I don't understand what you mean." She relaxed back into the couch, pulling her legs up with her.

"Just last week," I dug through the stack on the table and pulled out the tabloid that I knew had the picture in it. It was of Stellan almost on top of me, in his reflex to protect me. We were standing in front of Lydia and Cole on the red carpet for Paris Fashion Week. Out of context, it looked incredibly possessive and aggressive. I flipped it into Colette's lap and she tapped her manicured finger to her lips, humming. "Circle members know what this is all about. But everyone else just keeps using it as some example of me being in an abusive relationship. There's just so many different versions of myself."

"That I do understand." She nodded and tossed the magazine back toward me. I flipped it over with a frown,

"And the cameras. Just leaving the hospital the amount was overwhelming. I'm scared to think what it will be like when I'm actually at a planned event. They were so blinding and overwhelming."

"Look up and to your left, it helps with the temporary blindness." She shrugged. "But, you never get used to that."

"Really?" I deflated and flopped back into the couch.

"If you did you'd be a narcissist." She smiled.

"It doesn't help that Stellan has that fake Circle smile down already," I grumbled.

"He never used to smile. I would tease Elodie that either her boyfriend wasn't satisfied or Russians don't smile."

I cracked up - despite the initial awkwardness of hearing him referred to as Elodie's boyfriend. I don't think I'd ever get used to that. "I'm going to tell him."

"Please don't!" She sat up, feet falling to the ground as she reached a hand toward me.

"You all act like he can't take a joke. I make fun of him all the time."

She laughed. "You learn the smile over time."

"But I don't want to do that. I don't want him to either."

"Why?" She gave me a curious look, pulling all her long auburn hair off her neck as she settled back into the cushions. I paused for a moment, unsure if I should confide this to anyone. It was a deeply personal reason, but as I took in her eager face and kind eyes I realized she was the person I could confide in. She had been for a while now. She was my closest girl friend. I took a breath and let it all spill out,

"When I was doing my PT in the hospital it was one of the only times I didn't let him follow me. I was always in tears and I didn't want him to give me false praise about it all. But the PT girl would tell me that any progress was good progress and I needed to go easy on myself."

"Good advice." She nodded for me to continue.

"Since no one would let me leave my bed other than for PT I felt helpless. He was always so stressed out too, snapping at everyone on the phone. And I thought to myself - something small." I stopped as a smile lit across her face. But she just nodded again, actively listening. "So every day I made it a point to make him smile. A real smile. Like he did in Spain."

"Ahhh," she broke in, "so you want him to stop using that Circle smile?"

"No," I paused, blushing. "There's no way around that. But when he smiles at me, I want it to be only for me. No matter what is going on around us."

"That is an excellent goal." She quietly praised me, her voice warm, her own smile genuine. I felt the blush start to climb up my neck.

"I'm just worried that version of myself is going to get lost in all these other ones I have to be. How can I possibly be myself when no one really wants that?"

"Stellan does." She stated, quickly and surely. She sounded so convinced it stopped my spiral of doubt and I grumbled,

"I know, I know."

"You'll see," Colette reassured. "You two aren't there yet. But one day, soon enough, he'll be the only person that can make you laugh. He'll know all the things that no one else does. He'll know that you're amazing at Scrabble and hate capers but chicken picatta is your favorite dish."

Colette's smile quickly fell off her face and she frowned down at her hands. It filled the space between us in the silence, her grief making her blink rapidly to try and fight the tears. Liam. I felt my own horrible mix of grief and anger stir in my chest. "I'm so sorry, Colette."

"I miss him." She whispered and then pressed her hand to her mouth trying to stop herself from crying. The tears pooled in her eyes anyway and I froze unsure what to do. Do I hug her? Do I pat her on the back? What would I want her to do for me? I leaned forward and pulled her into a crushing hug. A few tears splattered onto my shoulder before she composed herself and pulled away.

"_Merci_." She sniffled and wiped at her smearing mascara. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." I shook my head. "Is there anything I can do?"

She bit the side of her lip, worry crossing her face before nodding. She still seemed unsure so I added, "anything you need. You mean so much to me, to all of us. Just tell me what it is and I'll get it for you."

"I need a break."

"Oh." My face fell. I tried to recover quickly. "Of course. If that's…"

"I knew I shouldn't have said it so bluntly."

"It's fine. Is it something we've done…" I trailed off and we looked at each other, awkwardly, for a moment. Then Colette collapsed on the couch with a sigh and held her face in her hands for a moment. She dropped them, nodded to herself and took a steadying breath,

"I love all of you. And I am so humbled to be part of your Family. It means so much to me."

"I can't imagine it without you here." I broke in, already starting to panic at the thought of her leaving. She gave me a beseeching look.

"You have to understand, when you are not in succession to be a head of the Family there are discussions on how you'll contribute. From a very early age, you are driven toward professions that can bring honor, prestige, celebrity, power to your Family. I was tapped for acting."

"That's...terrible." I gawked.

"Oh, it's not. They don't force you, but there is this unspoken understanding of the hierarchy of power after someone like...Luc. Especially if you are a woman you are seen as an asset that can only bring the Family power."

"That's not any better."

She stopped and contemplated this. Nodded in agreement and then continued, "but you never saw me as a celebrity. Only as an equal. A team member. And it was exhilarating and bracing to be seen as important for reasons other than my body. To be trusted to care for someone so crucial and important at the lowest point for both of you. I will always treasure this time."

"I know Anya will too." I quietly added.

"But I do like to act. I'm good at it. It brings me fulfillment. And if I'm being perfectly honest I miss it. If I take any longer of a break then it could start to hurt my career."

"We don't want that to happen."

"I know." She smiled, kindly. "But there is another reason."

I took a breath and held it as if anticipating a blow. I nodded for her to continue, spinning my rings around my finger to try and slow my anxious fidgeting.

"You don't need me anymore. Not in the same capacity. I've realized that I need some time alone. To mourn. To find some closure on all this."

The flash of jealousy hit hard in my stomach and I pressed my finger onto the pointy parts of my diamond ring to try and offset the frown I wanted to give. I hadn't realized how much I wanted that too until she'd voiced it. I'd just been taking this a day at a time, still in survival mode. We probably all needed a break. I pushed it all back down and evenly said,

"Of course. Do what you need to do. You are always welcome here."

She exhaled, relieved. "And Stellan?"

I waved at her, "I'll talk to him."

"_Merci_." She bowed her head and then picked up her phone and showed me a feed from some celebrity gossip website. It was all in French, but I recognized her face instantly.

"What's it say?"

"You have a leak. It's one of your private wing housekeepers. I've been talking to Benicio about a movie in Africa." She answered quietly.

"Oh," I quickly looked around the room. We were alone.

"I've only talked about it here on the phone. Even my agent doesn't know. But it made it to this website."

"Lovely," I sighed.

"Part of the package I'm afraid. You'll come to find that you can't trust anyone. In the end, loyalty can be bought."

"Right." I pressed my finger into the diamond again.

"If I could give you one piece of advice?" She started cautiously. I nodded and she pulled up a different page on her phone and flashed the picture at me.

It was of Jack, Stellan and I standing on some street corner. It had obviously been cropped, the picture pixelated from zooming in from a wide shot. Stellan was to my left, Jack to my right and I was leaning toward Jack to say something. If you didn't know him it looked like a smile, but I could tell it was a grimace. What was concerning was that I didn't remember this at all. The picture had been so doctored that I couldn't identify any kind of markers to tell me where or when this was taken.

"What is this from?" I asked, pulling her phone closer to me. Colette dropped her hand, concerned,

"Valencia. When we left _La Mary_. Do you not remember this?"

I started shaking my head as I examined it further, this uneasy twinge building in my chest. It was unnerving to look at somewhere I didn't remember being at, but clearly, I'd been there. I'd even leaned toward Jack as he frowned about something. It all must have been erased from my first concussion, at the museum. I glared at the picture again, willing my brain to remember it, but the unease just grew. I thrust the phone back into her shocked hands asking,

"What's the caption say?"

"Fickle West in Spain." Colette frowned and locked her phone, setting it in her lap.

"It's just so fucking stupid," I grumbled to myself. Colette shifted on the couch.

"This rumor will always plague you because Jack is always going to be around. And it grinds on your real relationship. Especially because of everything that happened between the three of you."

"Are you kidding me?" I balked at her. She shook her head.

"You have to treat him like a stranger when you are outside these walls. Never touch him. Because the one day he makes you laugh and you touch his arm - that's the day it balloons out of control again. That's when they hide in bathrooms and pay off people loosely related to speculate. That's the day they start digging and connecting dots."

"Jesus." I could tell by the hard look on her face that she was speaking from experience.

"Only touch Stellan. Trust me in this. Because it goes deeper than tabloids. If there is anything the Circle loves more than power its gossip."

Instantly my brain screamed out, _don't leave! _Who else was going to help me navigate all this bullshit? Who else in this house could do it without making me feel like an idiot? The last thing I wanted was to jeopardize our position because of being ill-prepared to manage my celebrity - but what kind of person would I be if I forced her to stay? I shoved my desperate plea down and diplomatically said, "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too."

"When do you leave?" I forced over the knot in my throat.

"Tomorrow most likely. Unless you needed me to stay longer." She answered searching my face for the answer. My mind screamed out _stay forever_ and I tried to hide it by looking up and to the right as if thinking. If she wasn't going to stay I at least wanted to show my appreciation to her.

I forced myself to keep my desperation in check and cautiously asked, "Sunday? Can I throw you a going away party?"

"That would be lovely." She leaned across the couch to squeeze my knee. "Brunch?"

"Ask and you shall receive." I put my hand over her own and squeezed back.

"I'm forever in your debt your Majesty." She gave me a bow of her head and I lowly grumbled my displeasure with the title at her.

Then she reached over to the side table and grabbed a stack of magazines. With a flourish, she set them in my lap - interior design magazines. Each one already had ideas flagged with post-it notes. She gave the stack a few pats and then stood making her way back toward her room. The panic seized in my chest as I watched her leave - what was I going to do without her?

My phone buzzed against my stomach and I fumbled around for it, desperate for the distraction. It buzzed again and I yanked it out of my pocket. It was a reminder of my final fitting at two and a reply from Stellan,

_Another parameter._

_I'm starting to think you have no idea what you want._

I smiled at my phone, all the unease and panic lifting from my chest a little, but not enough to stop myself from unloading my news onto him.

_Where are you?_

_On my way back._

_Oh._

_You want me to call you?_

_No. _

_I talked to Colette. _

_She asked to leave._

There was a long pause as I anxiously waited for his reply, my fingernails tapping at the back of my phone. I wasn't sure exactly why I was nervous. Clearly not about telling him, even though Colette was. I deduced I just needed someone to tell me the world wasn't going to explode without her here. I didn't like the idea of breaking up our group.

_I figured this was coming._

_Really?_

_She's been my friend for a while now._

_I know her._

_Well, she was afraid to ask you._

_Oh. _

_You told her yes._

_I told her we said yes. _

_Is that okay?_

_Of course._

_I'm going to throw her a party._

_Perfect любовь моя._

_I can't even...what does that say?_

_How did you even get your phone to do that?_

He didn't answer. Instead, he sent me a picture of a white and brown Brittany.

_No way. Too hyper._

_Now you're just messing with me._

_I'm not! I'll just know._

_I'll see you at dinner._

I locked the phone and tossed it at the couch, it skidded across the stacks of tabloids and I debated grabbing it and texting Jack. It seemed like the safest option to inform him of what was going on with the tabloid task I'd failed at. But now I felt like even the walls in our camera-free private wing had eyes. It made all the anxiety within me swell. When it had been really important in the past we'd talked in person. I'd tell him at dinner when I was sure none of the staff was there. Which was hours from now. And I just had this quick fitting to fill the rest of this day. Great. My phone buzzed again and I looked down at the reminder and hauled myself off the couch moving toward my bedroom.

Of all the fittings I'd been subjected to this week, this was the only one I was excited about. It was for the dress I'd be wearing at the dedication to my 'late' family at the British Museum next week. Elodie had made it perfectly clear to the stylists that this dress had to murder the red carpet when I stepped out of the car. I needed to be on the front pages of all the sites and rags we didn't own. People needed to talk about the dress for at least a week. Everyone else would be wearing typical evening gowns or cocktail dresses as they blended in with all the tuxes. But I had to be seen, and I would be at the forefront of all the events that evening. So not only did it have to be beautiful it had to be unique. They had not disappointed. Elodie's hired hands had managed to secure an Elie Saab dress that had been shown at the very same Paris Fashion show my 'late' family had terrorized. It brought the biggest smile to her face every time Elodie talked about the connection. I, on the other hand, loved the dress because it had long sleeves. Since this was a Saxon event, despite there being Circle Families in attendance, hiding all my scars were part of the plan.

As I entered the dressing room the stylist looked up from her magazine with a thin smile and a quick greeting in French. She pointed to the stack of flesh-colored body shapers I had to wear folded neatly in my closet for me to change into. I left her to work unpacking the dress. Elodie had said unique but I really felt like the word was scandalous. When I'd found out you were supposed to wear the dress completely naked I'd immediately vetoed it. Even Colette had voiced a concern about a wardrobe malfunction on my behalf. In the end, the perfect color matched body shapers were the compromise with Elodie. Not that I needed the shaping part, I was still trying to put weight back on from my accident and coma. But, at least now every pair of eyes at this event wouldn't be looking at my actual breasts barely hiding behind strategically placed clusters of sequences and beads.

Emerging back out into the dressing room the stylist nodded and then held out the dress for me to slowly work my way into it. The gown was charcoal black with this intricate overlaying design that showed so much of my skin and yet somehow also not at all at the top. It reminded me, weirdly, of live coral. A super thin black belt hit right at my waist and then the dress flowed down from there in more of the same idea but a different design. The clusters of reflective black beads mixed with the lace-like holes throughout the skirt that gave peaks at my skin underneath. It was floor length and a little heavy despite looking airy and flowing. The fabric was so sheer and delicate I was always worried I'd fumble and ruin it. My helper slowly slid the fabric up my arms and over my shoulders before moving to the back to close the two dozen hidden clasps that made it impossible to know how I'd managed to get the dress on in the first place. I held my left arm out in front of myself, palm up, double checking the scar coverage again when she let out a little laugh in her throat.

"What?" I asked, feeling her hands still moving over all the clasps.

"_Excusez-moi_." She quickly answered, doubling the speed on her task.

"What is it?" I pressed and she smoothed the fabric against my skin with a cool hand. I watched as she shook her head in the mirror, cheeks starting to flush and then dropped to her knees to adjust the skirt of the dress around me. I frowned, upset first at this French-language barrier that continued to be used against me and then at just feeling left out. I was alone so often here I had more conversations with people waiting on me than my actual friends. It made me uncomfortable every time they'd catch themselves and go silent. I'd spent my whole life doing things on my own, desperately wanting someone to do them for me, only realizing now how lonely that was.

"Better, but your eyes shouldn't look so sad. They should look more like you're trying to set something on fire." Elodie's voice broke through all my musing and I smirked at her as she moved through the space to settle on the settee next to us. The stylist started telling her things in quick French and the last line made Elodie's eyebrow rise on her face in surprise before she nodded and the girl quickly gathered all her things and shot out of the room.

"Am I really that terrifying? Why does everyone leave so quickly?" I asked Elodie.

"_Non_," Elodie distractedly answered as she circled me, inspecting the dress. I straightened my spine reactively at her narrowed eyes. "They're afraid of me and your husband. Who I'm going to have words with."

I wrinkled my nose at the word 'husband'. I knew why everyone kept calling him that, especially why Elodie kept calling him that, but it just continued to hit wrong in my brain.

"What did he do?" I pushed and she moved around to my back and then jabbed her finger into a painful spot on the nape of my neck. The memory from this morning flooded me and I sucked in a breath of surprise.

"Um hum," Elodie hummed, disapprovingly, and I felt my whole body flush with all the emotions battling it out inside me. The various levels of mortification being the biggest one as I slowly started to realize that both the stylist and Sadist Rebecca had similar reactions to seeing my neck today. Anger decided to join the party in my chest and I snapped off,

"Ugh, why?"

"To mark his property. He's always been possessive like that." Elodie answered and then the two of us looked at each other for a long moment, realizing the dangerous road we'd just stumbled upon. She wanted to know as little about our current relationship as I did about her previous one. She cleared her throat and drawled out, "you'll have to wear your hair down now."

"Obviously," I answered and moved into the closet to snatch my phone. I quickly texted him,

_You are in big trouble._

The reply bubble started immediately and then disappeared. Over and over. He was nervous. Good. Elodie came into the closet and started undoing all the clasps on my back.

"We actually have a much more pressing issue. We'll have to cover it up for the visit to Buckingham Palace. Your hair has to be up to hide all the pink."

Her hands had been steady in her task but her voice was rising with irritation. Next to us, my phone buzzed a few times and we both looked over at it to see Stellan had sent me a couple texts. I ignored them, better to let him stew in it for a bit.

"If you don't think the makeup would stay I suppose we could dye my hair back." I offered.

"The makeup will stay." She replied, her hands at my lower back, almost done with my clasps.

"Good," I exhaled. "I like the pink."

"Me too." She said, squeezing my shoulder before helping me slowly slide the dress back off. As I stepped out of it she carefully gathered it all back up, leaving me alone in the closet to change back. I struggled out of the shapers as she called back to me, "I have a task for you this afternoon."

"What-" I stumbled trying to get the bottom shaper off and thumped onto the floor, catching myself on my hands and knees. Elodie called out to me and I hastily replied, "-I'm fine. What horrible task now?"

"I never said horrible." She intoned back. I quickly slid back into all my workout clothes and hastily ripped my hair thing out to let my hair cover my hickey. Sliding my phone back into my hoodie pocket I emerged into the dressing room and crossed my arms over my chest,

"When have they ever been nice?"

"Tasks, by their nature, are inherently horrible. Otherwise, I'd just call it fun." Elodie answered and handed over a hardbound book to me. There was an impressive and imposing looking crest on the front with what I swore looked like a unicorn. I flipped it open and felt my eyes widen with shock at the bold red words across the page - Buckingham Palace. I looked back up at Elodie,

"They sent this to me?"

"Correction. For you. They call it the American edition." She laughed and I suddenly realized why this was a task and not something amazing. These were all the rules I needed to learn before my tea with the Queen. The book instantly felt twice as heavy in my hands.

"Damn it." I sighed.

"I believe that's rule number 13. No cursing in front of Her Majesty." Elodie laughed again and turned to leave. "I'm going to test you on this every single day."

"But if I'm going as a Korolov doesn't that mean we're equals?" I asked, hopefully. Elodie rolled her eyes at me as she backed out of the room.

"You're going as both. She knows about the Circle, but your connection to her is purely Saxon. So, technically speaking you are. But practically speaking you do not want to get on her bad side. Mind your manners," she stopped and gave me a low bow, "Your Majesty."

I almost threw the book at her. I flipped through all the pages to the back - 50 in total. So it wasn't very long, but I knew it wasn't going to be easy. Wandering back out toward the living room I took a look at the opening paragraph and inwardly groaned, it read incredibly formal.

_When one is given the honor of meeting with Her Royal Highness, one must adhere to the cursory codes of conduct that shall be listed within this text._

I landed on the couch with a thud, all the interior design magazines spilling to the floor with the tabloid ones. I scanned the paragraphs looking for the list only to realize with sinking disappointment they were all hidden within the paragraphs. I'd have to actually read this. My irritation spiked again and I tossed the book onto the stacks on the floor pulling out my phone instead.

_Am I?_

_Oh, wait...am I?_

_Avery?_

I laughed to myself and then double checked on his dot, still slowly moving back toward London. I should probably reply, but where was the fun in that? I almost never had the upper hand with him. Besides him knowing I'd now seen them and said nothing would only further his worry. A mischievous smile spread across my face and I decided to continue my slacking of responsibilities today and instead start planning Colette's brunch.

I was about six Pinterest boards deep when I realized I had no idea what she liked. All I could think of was the yacht in Greece that had basically every food imaginable on it. That didn't really help narrow down the choices. I knew she liked wine, but what kinds? And what would she even want it to look like? I needed reinforcements. I texted Luc,

_What are you doing tomorrow?_

I was rewarded with almost an immediate response.

_Nothing fun. Why?_

_Colette asked to leave, she's going to Africa for a movie. _

_I'm going to throw her a going away brunch._

_Can you come?_

I was surprised when my phone started to ring instead of a reply,

"Luc?"

"_Cherie!_ Of course, I'll be there. I just have to," he paused and I heard him walking away from a rumbling of voices, "rearrange some things."

"I don't want to get you in trouble Luc." I quickly countered, remembering that he'd suck away to visit me only a few days ago.

"I can't exactly turn down a request from my Queen can I?" He joked and I heard doors closing behind him as he kept walking.

"Your Queen didn't ask you. Your friend did." I immediately countered.

"It wouldn't be the first time I dropped everything for my friends." He laughed and then I heard cars honking and street traffic.

"What are you doing?" I slid down the cushion, throwing my feet on top of the remaining magazines and leaning my head against the soft leather arm of the couch.

"They didn't need me anymore anyway. It's fine." He brushed me off and abruptly changed the subject with a leading, "how is _ma princesse_?"

"Busy," I tugged at one of my pink highlights and then pressed my phone closer to my ear as I heard Luc's voice suddenly go far away as he snapped off some things in angry sounding French. "I can call you back you know."

"It's fine. How's my Keeper?" He asked, his shoes clicking against something as he walked in a quick clip. I laughed at his signifier and then put him on speakerphone to check on Stellan's dot.

"About an hour outside of London. And probably racking his brain for what his insubordination could be." I answered with a smug laugh.

"Oh, what did he do now?" Luc laughed in response, more doors opening and closing around him.

"Nope. I'd never give him up like that," I replied and then swore I heard someone calling his name. "I'm gonna let you go."

"Don't. Just..._une minute_." He pleaded and then there was a rustle as he let out a string of French with quite a few curse words in it before slamming a door and coming back with, "what can I do for you _mon amie_?"

"Do you have any ideas of what Colette would want for brunch?" I asked and clicked back on Pinterest looking through more brunch board ideas hoping one would stick.

"_Bien sûr!_ I will send you the address of this patisserie she loves. She swears when she retires from acting she is going to just outright buy it and live there above it. It fits her aesthetic." Luc said. Somewhere around him, there was a knock on the door and he let out a long and irritated sigh. "But I must go."

"I hope you're not in trouble," I said, worried.

"Define trouble. I think there is a new word for what I am. Maybe there's one in Russian. Ask Stellan." Luc sighed again and then without even a goodbye hung up quite dramatically. I stared at my phone for a long moment, what did that even mean? How could he possibly be in trouble anyway? The text came through right away and I clicked on the link to a site entirely in French. That wasn't exactly helpful, but at least I had a house full of French speakers. I started scrolling through all of their surreal looking pastries and delicious looking bread when the door to the private wing opened. I sat up with a start.

"Anya?" I called out toward the front, hopeful that maybe all her endless classes had finished early today. Instead, Gemma emerged with a curt nod,

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I didn't mean to intrude."

I couldn't stop the cringe at the formality and watched her face tick with worry, realizing only too late that she'd probably misinterpreted my reaction.

"You're not...I just...I really don't like that title." I blurted out and then pressed my lips together to stop myself from continuing to embarrass myself today in front of all our staff.

"My apologies, would you prefer Mrs. Ko..." she started and I cut right over her with,

"Definitely not that."

We looked at each other for a moment, my phone buzzing in my hand and I looked down at it as she took some steps toward the mess I'd made on the floor, her eyes sizing it up but her hands clasped firmly in front of herself. It was another text from Stellan, this one just a dozen question marks. I smirked at it.

"You can just call me Avery." I offered and she shook her head, horror rising on her face.

"Begging your forgiveness but that would not be appropriate, Ma'am." She hastily replied, ducking her head as she did and then eyeballing the magazines again. We had to figure something out, I supposed being referred to as something I'd always equated to grandmothers would be fine if my only alternatives created gut punch reactions within me.

"Ma'am would be fine." I tried and her shoulders dropped with relief.

"Of course Ma'am." She nodded, a smile tugging at the side of her mouth. "Is there anything I can assist you with this evening?"

I looked at the clock as she slowly lowered to the ground and gathered up all the spilled magazines, organizing them onto the coffee table with a precision I would not have been able to replicate. It was only 5 PM, was that really evening? Maybe I was becoming a grandma. Everything made my heart want to explode and I napped all the time. Gemma finalized her perfect collating of the interior design magazines and I checked my phone more question marks - he was getting desperate now. Gemma cleared her throat and I looked up,

"I have compiled the list you've asked for and left it on your desk. For the bedroom redesign."

"Wonderful! Thank you." I stood to move toward that instead, slipping my phone back into my pocket. Then stopped and turned back to her as she waited with a barely contained smirk. "Which one is my office?"

"Red door." She smiled and then turned to leave but not before a nod and, "Ma'am."


	9. Chapter 8

With my feet up on the desk, slunk low in the chair I pulled up the next item from Gemma's antiquity list on my phone. I had lost all track of time since leaving her in the living room to investigate. It was easy to do when each item pulled me down a Wikipedia rabbit hole. Gemma's inventory of the bedroom had proven to be quite the stash of ancient furniture. The dressers were from King Louis the XV, the headboard was from some kind of Tuscan stash and all the drapery was ancient Chinese silk. It was like living in a museum, while cool if you were born into it like Luc it didn't work for me, which was why all of it had to go. It was hard for me to even comprehend why someone would want to use pieces of furniture that were centuries old. The only thing I could figure was bragging rights. That seemed to be the sole reason anything was done in the Circle. It didn't matter if it was the best made, or most expensive item - it had to be so ancient museum docents worldwide were panicking at the thought of you putting a wet glass down on it.

I was looking up the stool at the end of the bed that, of course, was about three hundred years old, when there was a knock on my red door.

"Come in," I called out to the person, feeling my eyebrows shoot up on my face as my search results told me it was actually called a long stool and belonged to George the II. The door swung open to reveal Stellan in a navy suit, white button down, and still perfectly knotted red tie. He paused at the door taking me in as well and I couldn't help but openly stare at how vividly blue his eyes were in that suit. It made a smile start to pull across my face, he adjusted his tie nervously. I quickly schooled my expression, remembering why he looked so wary - he was in trouble.

"Welcome back." I gave him a nod and he eyed my feet still propped up on the desk, phone in my hand, papers neatly stacked, and then the books behind me before sliding to attention, hands behind his back. Keeper mode. I'd seen it enough times now to recognize it and glanced around the room, wondering why.

"Which title should I address you by?" He lightly asked, shifting in his dress shoes.

"Godfather?" I joked, still a little confused. He smirked, his shoulders bouncing with the laugh he held back. I dropped my feet to the ground and held my hand out toward him, wrist bent. With a quick smile, he moved forward and kissed the top of my hand. In the best Brando I could muster I drawled as I sat back in the chair, "someday, and that day might never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me."

Stellan actually laughed this time and sat on the edge of the desk. As we both settled his eyes poured over the books behind me before he stood back up, "what are you even doing in here?"

"Apparently this is my office, I was going over some paperwork," I answered, watching him move around the desk toward the bookshelf. I swiveled my chair so I could keep watch of him, relishing this sudden role-reversal of power that the desk afforded me. His fingers brushed across the thirteen burgundy and halcyon books I'd noticed during my Saxon Household meeting. He snatched his fingers away and looked down into my face,

"Gemma didn't tell you?" He asked. I shook my head, dread starting to fill my gut. "This was Alistar Saxon's office."

I instantly lifted my hands off the chair like it was covered in slime. My stomach did an awful flip and I glared at the intricately carved woodworking of everything around me. I should have known, this was exactly like all the furniture from the bedroom. The desk probably belonged to Queen Victoria or something horribly ostentatious like that. Stellan pulled one of the books down from the stack and paged through it,

"Those are the book of names, for each Family. This," he set it down in front of me, "is the book of Mandates." He pointed to one at the top of the page and I felt my breath catch in my chest. There, in delicate jet black cursive, were the seven lines that changed my life.

_The rightful One and the girl with the violet eyes. _

_The One, who walks through fire and does not burn. _

_The girl, born of the twelve. _

_Their fates mapped together become the fate of the Circle. _

_Through their union, the birthright of the Diadochi is uncovered. _

_The riches of Iskander, the power of Zeus, the means to vanquish the greatest enemies. _

_The One, when it is his, becomes invincible._

He leaned against the desk as I tried to recover. My brain was forcing me to read it over and over again, not comprehending exactly how seven lines in a book could have altered my destiny so completely. As I took in a slow breath my eyes wandered to one on the next page,

_When the moon aligns with the sun,_

_On the pink harvest,_

I snapped the book shut. I'd now seen enough mandates for a lifetime. Stellan was quiet next to me waiting for me to say something but I was too full of a toxic mix of emotions to say anything nice. Instead, I busied myself with arranging the list from Gemma on the desk and folding it in half.

"Sorry," he whispered. I shook my head and pushed to stand. I had to get out of here. I was not going to let this room get to me a second time today. Grabbing my phone and the stack of papers I rounded the desk, watching him carefully put the book back before meeting eyes with me again.

"I thought you knew." He added, patting at his pockets and then silencing his buzzing phone.

"Now why would someone have told me that?" I huffed. "None of you are ever here, and it's not like Gemma is going to give me all the gossip. I finally got her to stop calling me, Your Majesty."

"Avery," he said, taking a step toward me and I felt the tears build up toward my eyes, fast and unwanted. My moods were so all over the place today, I felt like I could barely control them. I abruptly turned toward the red door, shoved everything into the pockets of my jacket, and wrenched it open. I would not let this room, or this crushing loneliness, or this overwhelming panic about my new life get to me right now.

I started walking toward the living room, hearing his dress shoes clicking behind me as he followed and went to pull my hair up off my neck when I remembered the reason I'd initially been so mad. I'd just have to table all this moodiness, pick it apart at 3 AM when he was asleep and my stupid insomnia made me lay awake for hours. I didn't want him to keep looking at me with such concern, it triggered all my anxiety. It made me feel like something bad was about to happen, because for months that's exactly what that look had meant.

I stopped, took a settling breath and flipped around in the hallway. Stellan froze mid-step, an eyebrow rising on his face, as he tried to puzzle out my mood swing. So he noticed my bipolar personality today too? Probably, he was the only one actually paying attention to me. His reaction made all my volatility settle a bit and I stretched my arms out as far as they could go, almost touching both sides of the hallway.

"Besides, that's not why you're in big trouble." I teased and dropped my arms. He stopped, pulled at his tie until it was loose and then leaned against the hallway in between gilded artwork frames.

"You can't convict me without evidence." He joked, his eyes shining mischievously as he attempted to stay serious. I let out a single hard laugh and turned back around, walking away from him,

"Oh, I have evidence."

His shoes started their quick clip behind me again. But I always misjudged how vast his gait could be because of his height advantage. Within steps he was right behind me, his fingers curling around my hip and spinning me back toward him. With a quick sidestep, he guided me back. My shoulders pressed into the wall, his hands landed on either side of my head and he smiled down at me as I released a quiet squeak of surprise. In two moves he had me pinned against the wall and it was taking every ounce of self-respecting control not to just let him kiss the answer out of me.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you today." He murmured and then grinned as the flush instantly bloomed on my chest. He ran a finger lightly across my collarbones.

"Is that so?" I lowly asked trying to force the blush back down with cooling thoughts. It was useless, it seemed to be my body's natural reaction to him. I tried to at least stay focused on my indignant, fading, annoyance at his handiwork on my neck.

He nodded and slowly started unzipping my jacket. Click by click I felt my heartbeat start to ratchet up in my chest. Both of us watching as my breaths quickened in response. When he made it to the bottom I looked up into his face and licked my lips on impulse alone. He let out the sexiest sounding whisper of French and moved in.

His fingers threaded through my hair, pulling my face up toward his. I pressed onto the tips of my toes, grabbing onto the lapels of his jacket to balance myself. His hands started roaming, down my neck, slipping under my jacket to push it off my shoulders. It pooled at my elbows and I let go long enough to drop it to the ground, but it made me lose my precarious balance on my toes. The kiss broke and Stellan grumbled something I couldn't quite catch before quickly sliding his hands down my body to grab my hips and lift me, effortlessly, off the ground.

My hair dragged against the raised pattern on the wallpaper, my legs instantly wrapped around his hips, and we both let out a quick huff of relief now that I wasn't so far away from him. He pressed me into the wall, hands grabbing my ass and I threaded my arms over his shoulders, urging him toward me. The kiss was a little more frantic this time, demanding, as his tongue tasted my bottom lip. I parted my lips and he deepened the kiss, the lust flooded over everything, warm and swirling into my bloodstream, making me dig my fingers into his neck and back to get closer.

He broke the kiss as he hissed in a breath and I pulled back, head thumping into the wall as I threw my hands up and off him, the fog of lust lifting just enough for me to remember his scars.

"I'm sorry!" I heaved.

"Put them back," he demanded. I was hesitant to but complied and he moved toward my neck instead, saying in between kisses, "they just hurt more today. But I love it when you hurt me."

"Oh," I groaned not quite sure what I was responding to anymore - his admission, his lips on my skin, how quickly my brain was fuzzing off in pure bliss. Then I felt his teeth graze me and simultaneously shuddered with want and panic in the same moment. "Don't."

"Don't what?" He smiled against my neck, sucking at it a little. Goosebumps flushed across my skin and I tried to fight against it.

"Make me look like some slut with more hickies." I tried to sound angry but it came out more like a plea as he easily nudged my head over with his own to get better access.

"But you like it," he whispered, the words rumbling in his chest still pressed so close to my own. He sucked and licked up toward the nape of my neck and I gave up. Nodding and letting out little pants and breathy sighs as he did whatever he wanted with me.

"Ahem," was followed by a quiet cough and my eyes flew open, startled by the interruption, to see Gemma in the hall. Stellan pulled back a little so I could unwrap my legs from around him and drop my feet to the ground. She was somehow looking at us and yet also through us with a measured expression I knew had taken decades to cultivate.

Was this for fucking real? Would I never get to make out with my fake husband without someone or something interrupting us ever again? I suddenly wished she did still call me Your Majesty so I could send her to the Tower of London.

Stellan rested his forehead against the wallpaper above me as I said in a far too bitchy tone,

"Yes?"

"Dinner is served." She quietly announced and then turned to go. I thumped against the wall as I tried to collect myself which elicited a small chuckle from Stellan above me before I remembered I actually needed her.

"Gemma! Wait!" I called out and ducked out from under Stellan's arm to catch up with her down the hall.

"Ma'am?" She gave me a worried look and for a split second, I wondered if she thought I was about to punish her.

"I need your help," I said, pulling at my twisted clothes. Her shoulders dropped with relief immediately and she nodded toward me. I pulled out my phone and brought up the page of the shop Luc had sent to me. "I want to throw a party for Colette tomorrow. Would you be able to get some decorations and food like this?"

I held my phone out between us thumbing up and down the page so she could get an idea of all the different types of pastries and goodies they offered.

"Of course," she quickly replied. "Will this be a brunch?"

"Yes. She's leaving us for a while. She's taken a role in Africa." I frowned and locked the phone.

"How unfortunate. Shall I keep her room in order in case of return?" Gemma asked. She glanced behind me as Stellan slowly made his way over, finally recovered from our little makeout session. I pressed a finger to my swollen lips in thought and then nodded,

"Please do. Though I doubt it will be any time soon."

"Yes, Ma'am. I shall take care of everything." She gave me a small bow and then quickly clipped off down the hall in front of us. I watched her go wondering if I'd ever get used to bossing around someone so much older than me. It went against the natural order of things. I felt Stellan slide up behind me, his warm hands running over my hips as he pulled me back against his chest. I leaned into him, greedy for the contact when we both heard Jack and Anya stomping around in the entryway.

"I really hope it's not squash again." She whined and Stellan slid his hands up my body to wrapped his arms around my shoulders and started moving us toward the dining room. I tried not to stumble too badly, but subconsciously I think I meant to. Every time I did he squeezed me closer.

"What's wrong with squash?" Jack questioned back. We made it to the entryway to the living room and watched the two of them struggle with all her riding gear, their backs to us. She yanked off her helmet and tossed it to him, then struggled out of her boots, kicking them nearly across the room.

"They make it for Avery and she's always asleep." She bemoaned, draping herself dramatically in a chair before peeling her socks off. It was mesmerizing to watch the two of them interact in the comfortable relationship they'd built while I'd been in a coma. The Anya I remembered had been terrified of Jack, now she was tossing stinky socks at him. A twinge of jealousy spiked in my chest and I wrapped my hands around Stellan's strong forearms still draped across me. He kissed the top of my head, inhaling with his nose still in my hair when I snapped myself out of my funk and called over to them,

"I don't know why. I hate squash."

Stellan laughed as Jack and Anya spun around in surprise.

"Avery you're awake!" She squealed and ran across the plush carpets toward me. She pulled at Stellan's arms to break me free and started dragging me toward the dining room. "You must sit next to me."

"Sure you don't want to sit with Jack?" I teased as she pulled me past the couch. She stopped and gave me a horrified look,

"No!"

Next to us, Jack let his hands flop at his side, Anya's riding helmet smacking into his suit pants leg. He shot Stellan a look and grumbled,

"Always the attitude with that one."

I laughed and Jack smiled at me as Anya renewed her yanking. I tossed over my shoulder back at the boys,

"Must run in the family."

Jack's laughter filled the room as Anya managed to pull me into the dining room and the impressive spread of food.

* * *

"What is amazing," Elodie whispered, "is how she manages to keep her head perfectly fitted in her hand."

We all hummed in agreeance and watched as Anya's whole upper body started leaning toward her leftover squash and chicken on the antique blue and white china plates they'd served dinner on. She'd been bobbing back and forth for the last seven minutes and it was taking a supreme amount of control not to just swoop her up and save her. As she started her dive toward her plate my stomach clenched with worry.

"Oh no," I whispered leaning toward the impending disaster but from across the table, Jack held up a finger to stop me. Right as Anya was about to lose the battle with gravity and face plant she startled awake, her eyes blankly looking at all of us smiling around the table and then promptly went back into position. Hand propping up her face, elbow on the table, lids blinking long a couple times before she was asleep sitting up again.

"It's impressive." Jack quietly chuckled and I turned to Stellan who was leaning heavily in his chair and lowly asked,

"Has she always done this?"

He shrugged, "I wouldn't know. But with a skill like that, you'd think she was Jack's sister and not mine."

We all tried not to laugh too loudly but it startled her awake again this time enough to yawn as she looked at all of us. Colette stood up, ignoring Jack and Elodie's courses of no and slid a hand across Anya's shoulders,

"Come, I'll help you to bed." She gave all of us a scolding look and we quieted back down. Stellan forced himself to sit up,

"I can take her."

"Don't be ridiculous," Colette commanded as she pulled Anya to her side, "I'm only here until tomorrow."

Stellan put his hands up and settled back in his seat, finishing off his wine in a single gulp. Anya waved at us all and we all waved back, though I doubted she noticed, she was yawning so big it made her eyes close. She bumped along next to Colette as they navigated the living room and I turned back to see the same adoring smile plastered onto each of their faces. Despite all the murder and mayhem, it was nice to know we were all still soft in the right places. I wondered for a moment in the silence of her departure if she knew how quickly any of us would kill for her. In the next moment, I wondered why that had become a measure of love in my life. I really wished I was drinking wine with everyone else. Dark jokes like that tended to spiral quickly in my new brain. I took a long drink of my water hoping it could trick me into staying positive.

Elodie finished her own glass and stood, moving toward the bottles at the other end of the table with a small clap of her hands,

"What ridiculous bottle should we open next?"

"Stick with red," Jack answered. Elodie nodded her approval and with impressive skill had the bottle open and was pouring again. Examining the label she offered a pour to Jack, who shook his remaining fingers of Jameson at her, the ice ball clinking into the sides of his glass.

"It's a shame you can't partake with us," she gave me a little pout as she circled around to Stellan's chair.

I gave her a patronizing glare and took another sip, crunching a couple ice cubes before drawling back, "I can tell."

"It's such an impressive collection." She continued and gave Stellan a generous pour and set the bottle down on the table in front of him. It slipped a little in the landing and I realized instantly - Elodie was drunk. I was baffled as to why but was certainly enjoying the show, until she grabbed Stellan's shoulders and then slowly leaned forward onto them.

It was a completely casual gesture, one I'd actually seen her do a couple times before, especially when she was trying to incite me. But I flinched for him, feeling even worse when she seemed to press down and ask, "you don't like it?"

He reached forward and took a sip, frowning at the glass and tightly answered, "not the best I've ever had."

Elodie let out a big laugh, still hanging onto him and I glanced over at Jack who was shaking the ice around in his glass, not paying much attention to the two of them. Now that I knew Stellan's secret I wondered how no one had noticed it before. The shift in his personality, the blankness to his eyes, the way his neck would tense up as he fought a losing battle to hide his pain.

I felt this overwhelming compulsion to save him, any way I could. Stopping this increasingly awkward handsy situation would be a bonus as well. She pushed into him to balance herself as she poured more and he swallowed hard. I couldn't take it. I leaned toward them and slapped Elodie's arm,

"Rule number three - no touching the Majesty."

Elodie shot me a warning look, but she still hadn't moved. I smacked her arm again, giving her a small push and said in the best posh British accent I could muster,

"When one is given the honor of meeting His Majesty," I nodded toward Stellan as Elodie stood up crossing her arms over her chest, "one must refrain from any physical contact."

"You've been studying I see. Or are you just jealous?" She narrowed her eyes at me, but I didn't care, she was off of him now. Stellan leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. I shrugged,

"Something like that."

Jack made himself busy bussing the table like a waiter and Elodie's suspicion spiked. She looked from Jack to me to Stellan still breathing in his recovery and her face dropped from pissed to hurt. She turned to Stellan and asked him something lowly in French. He just stared back at her and right as I was getting pulled into their moment Jack slid his now empty tumbler across the table toward me, the glass clinking into my plate,

"Help me clear this, Avery?" He asked giving me a meaningful look.

I started blindly stacking things haphazardly onto my plate and followed quick on his heels into the kitchen. As the door swung shut the French started up again. Jack stared at the door for a long moment his jaw clenching when I realized why he'd asked me to clear out so fast - he knew.

"When did he tell you?" I asked. Jack spun toward me and his initial lie died as he pressed his lips together. I gave him a raised eyebrow to spur him to answer and he sighed,

"He didn't. I figured it out in the hospital. There weren't enough painkillers to stop him from grimacing whenever they'd touch him. Even sedated."

He set his stack of plates in the sink and then took my own as well.

"Painkillers? Why would they need to do that?" I quickly countered. This did not sound like the brief version of events Stellan had informed me of.

"He was a mess, Avery." He gave me a peculiar look, opening his mouth to continue and then quickly snapping it shut when he took in my face. "It's not my story to tell."

My anger flared, I could pick up on Elodie's voice rising a little on the other side of the door.

"Then what is that about?" I snapped pointing at the door. Jack turned to it as well and frowned, shifting uncomfortably,

"That is Elodie, tremendously hurt by the thought that she's been torturing him unintentionally. Especially when they were together."

I turned and frowned at the door as well. Stellan's pacifying French mixing with Elodie's tearful outbursts. This was awful. Layer upon layer of awful. And too personal for either of us to be eavesdropping on. But we were trapped in here, there was only one way in and out of this kitchen. I had to think of something to talk about so it didn't feel so invasive. Then I had it,

"Colette found your mole."

"What?" He asked, turning to me incredulously.

I nodded, "one of our explorers."

"Our…" he trailed off completely confused and I rolled my eyes. I bet Stellan would have gotten that joke.

"Lewis and Clarke. Julia and Maria. One of them is the mole. Colette pieced it together." I explained.

Jack sagged with exhaustion, taking a step to lean against the counter. Turning his eyes back toward the door he quietly said, "thank you."

"Does that mean I'm off the hook now?" I asked moving toward the door and pressing my ear to the wood. A sniffle, movement, more lowly murmured French. I looked over my shoulder at Jack in question.

"Just means I have another hook for you." He cracked a smile. A chair slid across the wood floors on the other side of the door and Elodie's thick voice called out,

"Jackie?"

I moved back so he could quickly exit the room, hanging back in the kitchen to give everyone a little space. But the silence stretched on and I didn't know what to do so I started pacing the worn wood floors. I ran my fingers along the polished marble countertops, marveled at how deeply set the kitchen sink was, tried to pick out the hum of the fridge over the ticking of the clock in the corner. I was about to start poking around in the cupboards when the door swung open again and Stellan eyed me suspiciously,

"Why are you hiding in here?"

"Could awkwardness be a valid reason?" I gave him a tentative smile. He closed the space between us, lifted me up onto the counter, deposited me unceremoniously and pushed my legs to the side. He reached underneath and pulled out a jar of Nutella. Tossing the lid at the counter he stuck his finger in, swiping a glob out and shoving it into his mouth.

I pressed my lips together trying very hard not to laugh. Managing to pull myself together enough to tentatively ask,

"Stress eater?"

"It's been a long fucking day." He said around his finger, sucking it clean on the way out. I watched his tongue swirl around his finger and shifted on the counter. He went for a second round and I laughed, my eyes glued to his mouth.

"Sorry." I offered.

"Not your fault," he garbled around his finger and proceeded to suck it clean again. My tongue darted out to wet my lips and he smirked, "you are the best part of this day."

I felt the heat start to rise, blushing up my collarbones on its way toward my face. His unwavering adoration made me melt a bit onto the marble. He dipped his finger in again but this time brought it up to my own mouth which I obediently opened.

My lips closed around him and I twirled my tongue around his finger licking all the chocolate off. I knew _exactly_ why he'd done that, which was why I didn't break eye contact for a single second as I sucked his finger clean. The lust crowded the blue in his eyes. I reached for his belt using it as an anchor to pull myself toward him on the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist. He slowly pulled his finger out and I kept the perfect pressure on it so a soft POP filled the kitchen. He groaned something unintelligible and pulled me into a bruising kiss.

His hands slid up under my shirt, fingers slipping under the bottom of my sports bra as he pulled me closer. My hands gave another yank of his belt and he bucked his hips toward the drawers making all the silverware rattle. We tasted like chocolate and wine and I was so heady with lust I kept ignoring all the flags going off in the back of my brain telling me getting fucked on the counter would only get us caught.

I broke off to suck in a quick breath and he went for my neck, pressing hard kisses into the side of it, pulling my hips flush against him so he could start laying me backward. His lips drug down to my collarbones and I leaned my head back, feeling my pulse start to thump loudly in my chest at how worked up he was making me. I squeezed him with my thighs, digging a heel into the small of his back, his belt buckle clanking into the marble. A hot, firm palm ran up my thigh, grabbing my ass as a small noise of need broke from my throat. His stubble scraped at the sensitive skin on my chest and a flash of goosebumps raced across me as he left a kiss against the rapidly beating hollow of my throat.

He kissed it again, his tongue darting out to taste my collarbones and I felt everything throb harder - my pulse, my blood, my want pressing against his abs. He paused, breathing me in and then stopped himself suddenly whispering against my feverish skin, "wait. Wait. _Merde_. Patience."

I let out a growl of frustration. It wasn't fair! Shouldn't I be allowed to have kitchen sex like everyone else? Wouldn't that be the best possible way to die? Your heart exploding from the mind-blowing orgasm you were having? He started to pull me back up, leaving kiss after lingering kiss as he did. It passified my self-consciousness but was only making me hornier.

He finished with a kiss to my forehead and a warm palm, pressed right over my thumping heart - and cleavage. I glowered at him, "you are the worst kind of tease."

He grabbed my hand still holding onto his belt and ran it down the hot length straining against his slacks, "likewise. You have no idea how sexy you are. It makes it hotter."

"Then why don't we," I started to say, boldly palming him and leaning forward to kiss the small patch of skin poking out from his button up. He let out the sexiest groan and then carefully removed my hand so I couldn't keep touching him.

"I am far too fragile to deal with another medical emergency today." He laughed and I rolled my eyes and dropped my legs from around his waist, my sneakers banging into the cabinets below us. He brought my hand up and kissed my palm, then let me go altogether as he adjusted himself.

I let out a long, loud sigh and frowned at him. He just smiled back and offered me a hand down. I refused it hopped off the counter myself watching him close the Nutella and put it back as he asked, "so what did you do today?"

"Not you apparently," I grumbled to myself and moved out toward the dining room needing some space to walk off all this buzzing lust in my veins. He laughed behind me and I felt myself flush even further and moved past the table still laden with food into the living room.

"Your PT went well?" He prodded slowly following me. I grabbed the stack of interior design magazines and sat on one end of the couch, shrugging in response.

"Your dress fitting?" He continued, sitting almost on top of me and sliding his arm across my shoulders as he settled in. That wasn't exactly helping cool the lust in my blood, but I sure as hell wasn't going to turn him down. I started flipping to all the spots Colette had flagged in the first magazine to distract myself.

"Still scandalous, and Elodie's biggest point of pride at the moment," I answered nonchalantly. I trailed my fingers down the page of the first flag she'd made. Everything was strikingly white except for the accent wall at the head of the bed, gleaming in polished, ancient wood. It was incredibly masculine looking and I snuck a quick glance at Stellan to see if he liked it. He was frowning, I turned the page, flipping toward the next marker.

He pulled me closer to him as we settled and I relaxed against the silky feel of his dress shirt and the building heat of his skin. I felt a yawn try to build and fought it back. I'd skipped my usual afternoon nap today in an attempt to see if I could actually make it to dinner one night this week. The building fatigue told me this experiment was going to cost me.

"What about your Saxon meeting? How was that?" He asked and we both stopped and looked at the next flag. It was another all-white room, except this time the bed was draped in silky black that matched the leather padded headboard. Again - incredibly masculine and I couldn't help but think bondagesk. Stellan reached forward and flipped the page. I smiled to myself, maybe Colette had been taking stabs in the dark at what he might like, but it was encouraging to know my instincts had been right so far.

"Why didn't you go to that?" I wondered aloud.

"I'm not a Saxon." He quickly answered. I turned the page with a little extra force to the next flag. He silently laughed next to me, moving us a little but didn't say anything further.

"Roberts was scary, the chief seemed spooked by me and it turns out one of the maids is the mole Jack's been looking for." I listed, trying to sound bored, and then actually yawned on accident. Stellan stopped mid flip and glanced over at me,

"You've been busy _Kuklachka_."

I shrugged, he slipped his hand down my back and squeezed my side until I laughed and tried to squirm away. The magazine slipped off my lap and when I finally broke free I turned to face him,

"What happened at Hogwarts today?"

"I had to look that up you know." He leveled a look at me, "I didn't know you were such a nerd."

"You're actually weird for not knowing that. Don't even try to win this one." I shook my head at him and leaned forward to pick up the magazine flipping to the next marker. "So…."

"Order staffing debrief." He answered and leaned forward to look at the page shaking his head and sitting back again, "who was working where, how deep their cover goes, their intel from the field. The Circle spies have nothing on the Order. Their networks are vast and tiered. From informants to plants to instigators whose only job is to stir things up with the Circle."

"Of course," I replied. How else could you spy on a secret society unless your own spies were better? I flipped halfway through the magazine to the last flag at the back, feeling my mouth scrunch in confusion at this one, some kind of water theme with planters being used as part of the headboard. I quickly tossed the magazine at the ground and looked up at Stellan. He reached over and grabbed the next one handing it to me as he continued,

"It's world leaders within Circle regions, celebrities, and musicians in direct competition of Circle ones, Circle staff in every Family, Keepers - Keepers I know. People I've known my whole life. Anya's nanny. Fitz. My father, your mother. It's so…"

"Intense? I know the feeling." I smiled at him.

"_Kuklachka_." He smirked and then leaned forward and kissed my cheek. He relaxed further into the couch and closed his eyes, rubbing at them, "Then, like always, mandates."

"Ours?" I asked, a little confused. He shook his head and opened his eyes to look over at me.

"Like the book of mandates." He cupped my face and ran a thumb over my eyebrow. "My violet-eyed girl."

My stomach fluttered with nerves and he made another delicate swipe of my brow before letting me go. I wasn't even sure what had made me react more this time, that'd he'd brought up the one thing that had changed my life, or that he'd claimed them for his own. I flipped open the next design magazine to give myself a distraction.

"The same book from the office earlier?" I ventured, he nodded. I looked down at the first flag and felt my eyes bug out a bit in my head. It was like something out of the Moulin Rouge. A blood red padded sleigh bed with black sheets that matched the sensuous curves of the black wood. What exactly was Colette getting at here? I quickly turned the page and Stellan chuckled at my reaction before continuing,

"Except their own research, their own interpretations. Which, at the very least, differ from Dauphin intel. Because while the Circle only focused on how the mandates could work in their own favors the Order approached it as how it could raise the 13th Family again."

"Anything bad?" I stopped and looked directly into his face, knowing I'd see the truth there no matter what he tried to downplay. His eyes were cautious but, thankfully, not brooding. He shrugged,

"Possibly. But no one can know for sure. Elodie has been handling some of them, scouting out leads, providing some Dauphin interpretations to blend it together."

"So what's the plan?" I yawned and then flipped to the next spot.

"Keep researching. It took centuries to produce the two of us. Who's to say it won't take centuries more?" He answered and pulled the magazine toward him to get a better look at the page.

"Murphy's Law." I deadpanned. He gave me a warning look.

"Besides, the scariest one starts out by saying the rise of the 13th Family will bring peace for generations." He said far too brightly and I huffed,

"Before the world explodes."

"We'd be dead by then." He quipped and then looked back down at the magazine again.

It was very modern, platform style frame, high off the floor, but also sort of sunken. There was a black leather edge that ran around the mattress keeping it in place that matched the padded headboard. With its low profile, the headboard actually looked more like a sofa than the usual padded sleigh model everyone seemed to love. Simple white sheets and a gray comforter rounded it all out and I could instantly see it replacing the hideous - and literally ancient - four-poster we were currently using. Stellan had gone very quiet in his examination of the bed and I tried to keep the conversation going,

"Someone else's problem to solve?"

He shook his head as if to clear it and looked over at me with a lazy, sleepy, smile.

"You know what problem we need to solve?" He asked and stood, offering me a hand up and tugging me down the hall with him. "Why it takes me so damn long to get from here to Cambridge. It's not like I can take the train!"

I yawned, "don't even start with me and traffic. I lived in three cities that are notorious for it."

"But it makes no sense. I really should have just taken the helicopter but I didn't want to seem like a...a _le con_." He laughed at his own joke, though the punchline was a little lost on me.

I nodded and followed him into the room and onto the bed not even bothering to change. I kicked my shoes off, letting them fly into the abyss and rolled until I was flush against him. He continued to ramble on about traffic patterns and English public transportation as I sank deeper and deeper into his warm side, his strong heartbeat and the sound of his voice lulling me to sleep.

* * *

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

"Go away," Stellan yelled, his voice cracking.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. _

"Stellan! _Vstavay_!" Anya yelled through the door.

I started laughing before I'd even opened my eyes. Stellan was on his stomach, and I was apparently trying to cover him like a blanket. One arm was slung over his ribs, one leg slipped through his own and my cheek pressed right in the middle of the sunburst. He'd changed into pajamas at some point in the night but I was still in my horribly wrinkled clothes from yesterday.

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

"At least she's knocking, right?" I said into his thin t-shirt and shifted so I could stretch the horrible kink in my neck. He grabbed my arm to keep me in place and I smiled against his back as the door swung open and Anya stormed in. She was a blur of purple and sparkles against my dry contacts with rapid-fire Russian that was making my head spin. Stopping to take a breath she started tapping her foot impatiently for Stellan's response. I felt him take a deep breath and grumble,

"That's fantastic. Now get out of my room."

She let out this little indignant sound that made me press my fingers into Stellan's ribs so I didn't break into laughter. He was grumpy this morning. Before I could even wonder why she spun on her heel and stormed back out of the room the door swinging shut behind her, calling out for Jack in the very next moment.

"Oh, you're in trouble now. She's gonna tell on you!" I joked.

"Like he'd have the balls," he grumbled under his breath.

I could hear clinking and movement out in the main part of the house. That must have been what she couldn't wait to tell us. The fact that he'd dismissed her so surly reminded me again of the strange relationship between them. Sometimes he was obviously her father, she asked for his permission to do literally anything. Then other times they had that ease and teasing I'd only ever seen with siblings. It was fascinating and after the week we'd had I wondered why the disgruntled brother was the version appearing now.

He squeezed my hand and then slid out from under me and stretched as he stood up from the bed, his back to me. But as he shuffled toward the bathroom I caught a glimpse of his flannel pants, or rather the way they were tenting in the front and pulled the covers up over my head in embarrassment. That was a very valid reason to tell his sister to leave the room. And I couldn't believe I'd seen that. The shower started almost immediately and I squirmed a bit in the sheets unsure what to do with this knowledge. I still felt a bit restless from all the unresolved sexual tension from yesterday and I couldn't really figure out the strange pacing of our relationship. We were trying to fill in some of the gaps we'd skipped over, but whenever we touched each other it went from sweet to borderline vulgar in what felt like seconds. And he would always stop us and compose himself like it was an easy thing to do, his shining eyes smiling down at the puddle of lust I was always left in. It was maddening.

A thump in the shower broke my concentration and I threw the covers off me to hear better. My hair spilled all over my face from the motion and as I tried to blow it out of the way I heard a groan. I slapped my hands over my mouth to stop from gasping or shrieking. He could just be stretching out his sore shoulders in there. But then there was another, and another and a single curse that confirmed it.

He ran a good game, but Stellan was just as blue balled as I was.

* * *

Stellan had waited for me as I quickly showered and dressed for the day. I was pulling my hair out from underneath my shirt when he looked up and immediately locked his phone pocketing it as he stood from the made bed.

"No suit?" I asked, giving him the once-over. He was in a simple black t-shirt and soft grey jeans looking very casual and dangerously attractive. Was there anything in his closet that made him look ugly? I'd even take slightly less hot than usual.

"No meetings." He smiled and I had to look away, it was way too early for this. I was still worked up from all our escalating foreplay from yesterday. Besides, things were starting to pick up outside, I was hearing everyone else's muted voices.

"Tell me something," I started and moved toward the door to our room. He let out a sighing laugh behind me and quickly said,

"Christmas, coffee, and the zombie apocalypse."

I whirled around, my mouth dropping open and chastised him,

"That is not what I was going to ask you."

He blanched and then recovered, straightening his spine in preparation of some kind of onslaught from me. I put my hands behind my back and leaned toward him,

"Zombie apocalypse?"

"Over alien invasion any day." He clarified and I shook my head and turned around making my way back toward the door. "You choose aliens?"

"I just think you overestimate your skill set." I threw over my shoulder as I entered the hallway. He let out this indignant sound that reminded me so much of Anya I laughed. I heard him jog up behind me and then shoot ahead, walking backward in front of me as he pointed a finger at me,

"I could kill zombies."

"Maybe the slow ones," I gave him a skeptical look. He stopped and reached forward to grab my shoulders and stop me as well.

"You take that back," he warned me, squeezing me slightly.

"No way," I smirked and ducked down and around his hands, but he was always so frustratingly fast. Anticipating the juke he took two steps backward and snatched me, pulling me up and against his side. He kept walking backward, strong-arming me just high enough that my feet couldn't touch the ground.

"You just signed your death certificate. Who is going to protect you now when the world becomes the undead?" He chastised me as I continued to try and kick his shins in my escape.

"Jack. Elodie. Roberts. The Circle. The Order. This fortified house. The private plane I'll take to my zombie-free island." I listed, managing to finally squirm my way down with a very unladylike stumble. He darted out a hand to steady me but I righted myself and pushed my hair out of my face with as much dignity as I could muster. I finished, "I also own a gun so...myself."

"Where do we keep all the extra ammunition in this fortified house?" He rose an eyebrow at me, walking backward again toward the growing noise. I tried to think as the sound solidified - plates, light music, laughter and then the loud pop of a champagne bottle.

"Ah," I stalled. I had nothing. We reached the living room and my jaw dropped with my quiet, "holy shit."

Stellan immediately turned around and I'm pretty sure he swore too but it was lost in the grandeur of it all. Our living room had been transformed into a florist shop. Peonies, tulips, orchids, roses, and dailahs rested on every surface available with the addition of topiary bushes that had been pruned into perfect globes in white boxes on the ground. The room smelled incredible and the ceiling was filled with ivory balloons just transparent enough to see all the gold glitter inside them that matched the color of the ribbons falling from the sky. Yet no one was there to witness our shock, all the noise was coming from the dining room.

We slowly moved through the space close together. I stopped to smell one of the peonies, holding its silky petals between my hands and sighing right as another bubble of laughter came from the dining room. Making my way over I hung back in the door frame, trying to take it all in without anyone noticing. The room had been transformed to look like something you'd see on the spread in _Bon Appetit._ The table from last night had somehow been removed to be replaced with a circular one that fit six, more of the gorgeous floral arrangements in the middle and expensive looking gold rimmed ivory china placed at each padded chair. At the far corner of the room was a table holding enough food to feed a football team - English or American. Looking closer I saw the telltale logo of the shop I'd shown Gemma the website of.

"She bought out the place, didn't she?" I whispered to myself only to feel Stellan slide up behind me, his fingers wrapping around my hip as he answered,

"Obviously."

"I just told her something _like_ that shop." I leaned into him as we watched our friends chatting and filling up their plates with all the delicious looking food.

"You'll learn how to rein her in." He said leaning down to kiss my shoulder.

"Should I, though? I mean, look at this." I gestured out toward the room, feeling incredibly inadequate. I would have never been able to do something this amazing for Colette. I had just given Gemma a single website and she'd turned it into art. "I feel like we should be taking pictures of all this for some Pinterest board."

"Pinterest?" He questioned me and I laughed a little. It drew the attention of the group and they all chimed in their hellos.

"Avery!" Anya squeaked and pointed to everything in the room. "Look at this!"

"Incredible, right?" I replied as Gemma stepped out from the kitchen holding six champagne flutes in a single hand, a bottle of Krug in the other. She carefully set them down, expertly pouring each glass and handing them off to everyone but Anya. Placing the bottle into a waiting ice bucket she opened a bottle of sparkling cider for Anya, filling her glass to Anya's absolute delight.

"Thank you, Gemma," she said, taking a tiny sip.

"Yes," I moved out of Stellan's hands, "thank you, Gemma. This is amazing."

"Think nothing of it," she graciously replied and turned toward Colette, "best of luck to you."

"You're too kind," Colette beamed at her as Gemma walked forward and passed off the final two glasses to Stellan and I, still standing near the door jamb. Stellan gave me a little jab to the small of my back and I realized everyone was waiting for me to give a toast. All eyes on me I felt my throat try and constrict.

"To Colette," I rose my glass, everyone else did as well and my mind blanked. I paused for all of two seconds when Stellan covered for me,

"Break a leg."

Everyone laughed and then leaned forward to clink glasses and sip. I pressed back into him and he squeezed my side with a silent 'you're welcome' as Anya carefully moved toward us to clink with our own glasses.

"You have to try these little cookies." She told me and then dragged me toward the table at the back. I let her pile everything onto my plate, picking out a few savory pastries for myself and set my plate down next to her at the table as everyone dug in. As I went to sit I heard a throat clearing and looked behind me to see Gemma halfway into the living room. Giving Anya a pat I followed Gemma out.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No Ma'am. I wanted to make sure the decorations were to your liking." She answered, sliding her hands behind her back.

I blanched at her, "they're amazing! Thank you."

For a split second, she looked taken aback by my response but quickly recovered and took a few steps closer, dropping her voice to say, "I also wanted to apologize for the unprofessionalism of Ms. Clarke. She has been taken care of."

A spike of fear thudded into my chest. Had they killed her? This was the Circle after all. I had only told Jack that. Did Jack kill her? Or would it have been Roberts? I looked back toward the dining room in worry. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe they just fired her. But I couldn't quiet the part of me that took it there in the first place. I didn't want to ask. If I knew it would darken the day and everyone was so happy in there.

"Will you be hiring a replacement?" I hedged.

"We are in the process, but it might take longer than expected to ensure this won't happen again." Gemma tightly replied.

There was a burst of laughter from the dining room and Gemma gave me a little bow, "I didn't mean to disturb your event."

"You didn't," I immediately cut over her. "Thank you."

"If there is anything else you need please don't hesitate to let me know over the intercom system. I've instructed the staff to give you privacy this morning." She turned and pointed toward the unit on the wall near the light switches for the living room. I'd always wondered what that was. I nodded, impressed and then noticed the magazines, perfectly stacked again this morning.

"One thing," I held up a finger and moved over to the table, picked up the magazine and ripped out the page of the bed Stellan had liked. "This is how I'd like to redo the master bedroom."

"From just a picture of a bed, Ma'am?" She questioned.

"Well, I gave you a pastry shop and you made all this," I looked around the room with a smile. "I'm interested to see what you'll do with just a bed."

"Of course," she smiled back, pocketing the picture.

"Oh, and the sheets have to be orange." I quickly shot in, smiling smugly to myself at what an amazing surprise that was going to be for Stellan.

"Orange?" Gemma frowned.

"Yep, you can pick the shade." I nodded.

"When would you like this completed?" She gave me a worried look and I shrugged,

"It's supposed to be a surprise for Stellan. So, I suppose when we go to Cape Town?" I offered.

"I will get you the plans by next week's end. As well as arrangements for the antiquities."

Gemma reached into her pocket to take another look at the magazine page and then nodded with a tight smile.

"Avery!" Anya called out to me and Gemma gave a quick nod and turned to leave. But not before there was a commotion at the entrance to the private wing and a very familiar voice indignantly shouting,

"Of course they're expecting me. Don't you know who I am?"

Luc had arrived.


	10. Chapter 9

"Have you ever met the Queen?" I asked the room. My feet were dangling off the arm of the couch as I lounged on it, marveling at how the ribbons on the balloons danced in the air conditioning on the ceiling above me.

"Many. You'll have to be more specific." Luc laughed. He was on the seat next to me, flipping through things on his phone.

"Of England," I turned my head to give him a withering look. He glanced away from his phone long enough to tap his finger onto my forehead a few times like I was a naughty dog. I suppose I was. Jack and Stellan had left him to babysit my drunk self as they went over a few things in the office. Citing historical precedence as the reason 'Drunk Avery' can't be left alone. No one had really anticipated that two glasses of champagne would be my limit.

"A few times." He shrugged looking back at his phone. I sat up immediately, everything spun and I let out a long groan as I fought off nausea. Luc held his phone far away from me, giving me a wary look until I settled and turned to him,

"Tell me everything!"

"She's sharp. Don't let her age fool you." He started and pocketed his phone, sliding it into the interior pocket of his dark grey suit jacket. "Oliver was friends with Prince Harry and they invited me to a few events during that last couple _Seasons_. Mostly the polo matches."

"And?" I prompted when he stopped, unable to hold back my excitement with the prospect of insider information.

He smiled, as if remembering something, and said, "she told me she appreciated the humor of my ascot."

"Ummm," I felt my face quirk with confusion.

"There are very strict dress rules for _The Season_," he explained. "And since I was invited as a guest I wore a muted toned ascot of the Blue Capetian flag."

"Oh, funny." I was still completely lost and tried to laugh as if I wasn't.

Luc didn't buy it, "It's French. It's the flag of Paris."

"Oh, I see." I slowly said, still not quite piecing it together in my fuzzy brain.

"No, you don't. This was before Harry had introduced me. She knew who I was. She knows everything happening around her. Especially to her grandsons." He arched an eyebrow at me.

"Oh lord," I groaned. That wasn't good. One more person that knew more than I did. That would expect more of me than I potentially had to offer at the moment.

"Which means she knows exactly who Stellan is." Luc continued. I deflated into the cushions.

"Wonderful."

"But she knows nothing about you." Luc stopped and gave me a peculiar look. "None of us do. Well, I do now. But you know what I mean."

Lovely. So I had actually been invited to a polite interrogation over tea. All my excitement about visiting somewhere as amazing as Buckingham Palace started to wain. The worry made the delicate balance I'd managed to create in my stomach sour.

"Did you pick out a gift for her yet?" Luc broke through my internalizing and I gave him a panicked look.

"No! The book told me not to!" I said, my eyes darting to the hardbound book still sitting on the table. Luc leaned forward and grabbed it, thumbing through it quickly.

"Avery," he leveled a worried look at me. "That's for commoners. You are most certainly not a commoner. Bringing a gift is just good manners."

"Oh no," I practically whined. Luc stood up and called out into the house.

"Colette! We have some shopping to do!"

Colette, who had been taking a few logistical calls in her room due to flight delays, popped her head out, "yay! Let's go now."

"I need to grab my phone," I said carefully standing as the room spun. Then it dawned on me, "wait. How do I pay for anything? I don't even have an ID."

Luc let out a long laugh and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me back toward my room.

"_Cherie_! Your phone has all your accounts linked."

He sat down on the long stool at the foot of the bed, leaning against the mattress and smiling at my shock.

"It can do that?" I gave him an incredulous look. He turned to the entering Colette to say,

"She is so delightfully pure."

"Don't be rude." Colette chastised him.

"I'm not." He turned to me, "Avery, I'm not. I am being 100 percent honest. Being worried about money."

He laughed and Colette ducked into my closet calling back to us,

"You can't go out in that."

I looked down at my outfit. Luc pulled my phone out of my hand and opened an app handing it back to me,

"Just use this. Anywhere we will be going will accept it."

"But the…" I started and stopped when Colette came out with an armful of clothes. "I wasn't aware shopping with friends required couture."

"It's not couture. But you have to expect you'll be photographed. You can't look like a slob." She answered, throwing the stack onto the bed next to us.

"Exactly." Luc started. "You are an heiress now. A billionaire. You're one of the richest people in Europe."

I sat down hard on the long stool next to Luc. I had never thought of it that way. Just one more identity to add to the list of things I was now. Maybe that should have been part of the Saxon Friday meeting yesterday. We're fixing the cladding and your net worth is now pushing 3 billion. It was almost panic-inducing to think of it. How did I get all that money? How do I keep all that money? How do I continue to make that much money? I'd never even had an internship let alone a part-time job.

"See. Delightful. No wonder Stellan keeps hoarding her." Luc said to Colette. I put my hands on my cheeks trying to rein it all back in.

"Speaking of Stellan," Colette started and held up two different dresses against my still frozen body, "he's not going to let her go."

"_Non_," Luc admonished. Colette nodded, as Luc steamed on, "why does he get a say at all?"

"You know how he can be," Colette answered, finalizing my outfit with a smile, a simple wrap dress with quarter length sleeves and the hem above the knee. It was a gorgeous deep yellow with silver accents on the belt. I smiled back, though I had no idea why I needed to dress up to shop.

"He is ridiculous. That's just unacceptable." Luc offered his hand, pulled me up and then Colette placed the dress into my hands. "Get changed."

I scrambled toward the bathroom changing in my closet as I heard the two of them talking in rapid-fire French, Luc's voice getting increasingly more irritated. As I stepped back out Luc gestured toward the door.

"We're just going to leave?" I asked, squeezing my phone in my fist.

"Sure," Luc answered nonplussed. I admired his resolve but I knew this wasn't going to work.

I was cagey - but Stellan was steadfast. Any time I had offered to take Anya somewhere or asked if I could tag along he'd always find some reason I shouldn't. The majority of them centered around my recovery. And those were only the times he didn't leave before I woke up. It made me feel trapped in this house because I had no desire to keep exploring the grounds of a place saturated in contention.

"What if he stops us?" I asked. I held onto Luc's arm as we started down the hall toward the front of the complex. Luc let out a dark laugh that Colette frowned at,

"Oh, I hope he does."

As we started to pass the office, the door wide open, I heard voices that came to a stop. Jack poked his head out into the hallway and gave us a peculiar look,

"What's going on?"

"We're leaving." Luc plainly answered.

"With Avery?" Jack leaned against the door jamb. I gave him a dirty look and he tried to fight the smile growing on his face as we all paused for one, two, three beats,

"Luc! No." Stellan's voice boomed out from the office and I heard his chair move. Luc patted my arm a few times and passed me over to Colette with a grim smile on his face. Jack slid into the hallway, leaning against the wall next to the door as Luc straightened his shoulders, stepped across the threshold and slammed the door behind himself.

All three of us jumped and the argument started immediately and loudly in French. Jack and Colette both winced at one particular outburst and I desperately wanted to know what was being said, but I didn't dare ask. Not that I'd ever hear the truth if I did. It would just be some sugar-coated mollification designed to keep me compliant. As if the reasons Stellan was being overbearing were some big secret. As if I couldn't read a room despite everyone continuing to use French against me. The anger spiked in my chest and I clenched my fists trying to stop it from spreading. I needed to focus on what mattered, not my spirling moody thoughts. Because from the stuttered and broken replies Stellan was giving it sounded like he was losing this fight.

Looking at Colette and Jack's faces confirmed that. They were still wincing or pressing their lips together at each outburst, Colette even nodding her head a few times at Luc's diatribe. Finally, there was a break and Colette and Jack met eyes across the hallway before looking at me.

Hope seized in my chest and I held my breath in anticipation. The fighting started up again and we all sagged a bit against the wallpaper.

But I could almost taste my freedom now, and as this argument drug on I knew why. Luc wasn't afraid of Stellan. Even I hadn't felt comfortable pressing him about my imprisonment since the hospital. Jack and Elodie most certainly didn't cross him and Colette was happy to keep the peace. Even all the household staff couldn't look directly at him. But Luc…

The door swung open and Luc took a breath and checked his watch before holding out his hand again,

"Let's go, _Cherie_."

"Just like that?" I looked at him, incredulous, as Jack and Colette both tried to peer inside. We all jumped at the door slamming for the balcony right off the side of the office.

"Just like that." Luc evenly replied and started to tug me down the hall.

"Let me grab my," Jack started to say and Luc stopped and held up a hand to him.

"No. You stay too. She's not going to die by shopping in SOHO with me. She needs a break from all this brooding."

"That's not what Stellan," Jack started to argue back.

"Take it up with your boss then." Luc snapped at him in a dismissive, haughty tone I'd never heard before between the two of them. Luc and Jack weren't exactly friends, but they were always friendly. The two of them stared each other down for a long, breathless, moment and everything inside me churned with worry, the brunch trying to come back up. There was far too much history, too many relationships and changes of power that had happened between the three of them in such a short amount of time. This had to be frustratingly weird for everyone.

"Luc," I whispered, trying to break up the tension. The two of them nodded at each other and Luc pushed me forward down the hall.

"Just keep walking," he said loud enough for his voice to carry. "Don't let yourself be smothered by their baggage."

I wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that. Ideas whirled around in my head as the three of us made our way down the hall and out to the town car.

* * *

"This is useless. What can you buy for a Queen when she can buy everything for herself?" I groaned pulling my new pair of Armani sunglasses off the top of my head as I looked around at all the other stores on this street.

We had been wandering Bond Street for almost two hours popping in and out of stores on the hunt for this present. My James Bond jokes had fallen quite flat and I had resigned myself to being the holder of the bags. I hadn't realized I was with professional shoppers. Luc and Colette had bought something in every store so far. I'd only allowed for the sunglasses since I kept squinting when we'd leave one glittering storefront for the next.

All of that aside, however, I was relishing being out of the house. Sure it was humid and sticky and people kept staring at us. Didn't help that all the store managers seemed to descend on us the moment we stepped inside, hovering as we wandered around. Or that it was so crowded going back out onto the street each time was like playing double dutch, especially with all these bags. But it wasn't Riberton Hall - that was all that mattered.

"At least Anya will like all our presents." Colette offered and peaked at her bags as we stopped on a street corner.

"Can we stop? I'm parched." Luc pointed toward the pub on the corner. We shrugged and made our way over opting for a table outside with a quick order done entirely by Luc as we sat down.

"I can't come empty-handed." I sighed and glanced at my phone. It was getting very late in the afternoon.

"Hasn't Elodie bought a gift for you?" Colette asked pulling all her wavy hair off her neck and fanning herself a bit.

"How the hell should I know?" I grumbled. "The three of them are never around. And it's not like Elodie would tell me that. She'd just slam it into my hands and remind me I'm going to mess it all up."

"_Cherie_." Luc cooed.

"Avery," Colette pacified almost at the same time as Luc. "She means well. She's just…"

"Bitchy?" I shot in.

"Prickly." Luc amended. "She's an acquired taste."

It lit in my mind instantly. Acquired taste! "Oh god!" I shouted, scaring the waiter that was pouring us water. "I know what to bring the Queen!"

"Go on," Luc pushed his water aside and took a big gulp of his wine.

"What do you get someone that could buy anything they want?" I prompted them and then grinned. "Something she already owned."

"What?" They both asked at the same time.

"That house is filled with ancient furniture and knick-knacks. That stool at the foot of my bed belonged to George the II. I bet I could find something in that house that was hers or one of her ancestors."

"Symbolic, inventive, thoughtful and irreplaceable." Luc started to nod.

"It would have to be small. Nothing large or it would seem ridiculous." Colette added.

"I'll ask Gemma when we get back. She has an inventory of the whole house. I had her give me the one for the bedroom." I finished, excited that I'd managed to figure it out on my own.

"So you _are_ redoing it?" Colette smiled.

"Of course! Do you know how old all that stuff is?"

"Do you know how much Stellan hates the Baroque period? It's like sleeping in a nightmare for sure." Luc let out a laugh and took another long swallow then leaned toward us, "photographers."

"Should we go inside?" I immediately asked, pulling my sunglasses back on.

"That's as far as they can come. Just angle your chair more Avery so they can't see your face." Colette coached me.

With my back to it now I felt watched. This creepy feeling coming over me as I picked up faint clicks in the distance. The waiter set the appetizers down and asked if Luc was ready for a second bottle. He was. I didn't know how he could keep drinking. I had the worst headache from all the champagne this morning. Even the Advil that Colette had fished out of her oversized purse for me hadn't put much of a damper on it. I sipped on my water and examined Luc's distant eyes sizing up the crowd.

I hadn't asked him what he'd said to Stellan. A part of me didn't think I wanted to know. Luc had been acting so strange lately I didn't want to add to his condition. He'd snuck out of his house arrest to spend the day with me twice now. I really valued him and his friendship, but we weren't exactly _that_ close. Today he seemed lost in thought whenever we stopped long enough and I was starting to think he was missing his old life with his old friends and their old arrangements.

The waiter set down the appetizers which were surprisingly normal - French fries with ketchup and mayonnaise and a fruit and cheese platter. I dove right for the fries, avoiding the strange addition of mayonnaise and let both of them take a few sips before I couldn't take it anymore.

"What did you say to him?"

"What?" Luc broke his gaze from the street and looked at me. Colette, on the other hand, took a very large gulp of her wine.

"To Stellan. What did you stay to him?" I asked again.

"Many things." Luc frowned. "That his tie looked stupid and he needed to eat more."

"Luc," I warned. He rolled his eyes at me at first but then nodded.

"I told him this was no way to treat his wife - he'd been raised better than that. And that you were too famous to be shot over appetizers after light shopping."

"Are you serious?" I gasped.

"Deadly." He rose an eyebrow over his glass as he took another big sip. "People as famous as you get shot entering and exiting buildings. Not over drinks."

"Luc!" Colette admonished.

"Statistically speaking." He threw back the rest of his wine to avoid me. So I waited until he swallowed and said,

"Raised better than that?"

"Avery," he paused. "You're not some fragile glass sculpture that needs to be roped off from the masses anymore. He did it to Anya but she's too young to know she's being smothered. And all my antics have conditioned him enough to know the world will not explode if you leave the house."

"He has to get over this." Colette agreed.

"I didn't even know this was a thing. I just assumed Rebecca would tell me when I was medically cleared."

"Oh," Luc gave me a sympathetic pout, pouring himself another glass. "You were cleared the day you left the hospital."

Colette gasped. The anger spiked in my chest as I ground out, "what?"

"Classic Keeper strategy," Colette said, frowning.

"Need to know basis and assumptions through omission," Luc added on and then eyed me cautiously as he took a sip. I tried to breathe through the anger welling so intensely that it was making my chest started to burn from my restraint. Colette glared at Luc for a moment and leaned forward to pat my hand,

"He wasn't, necessarily, wrong. Think about the condition you've been in since you were released. You don't have the kind of stamina needed for some of these events next week even. The Circle is looking for any kind of weakness to exploit and this is one of them. But he shouldn't keep things from you. He's not your Keeper, he's your husband."

"We're not married," I growled, ripping the paper napkin on the table into tiny pieces on my plate.

Colette and Luc looked at each other and then back at me,

"Yet," Colette said.

Luc downed his glass, pushing some hair off his forehead and leaned toward me,

"It comes from a place of love. But I reminded him today of what his mother told him over and over again. Marriage is built on respect." He leaned across the table to grab my jaw, tilting my face up toward his glassy eyes and flushing cheeks to make sure I was looking directly at him, "don't let him keep disrespecting you, Avery."

* * *

I was so silent and still in the car Luc and Colette started nervously covering their tracks. They were both buzzed from the bottles of wine they'd consumed while I ate all the appetizers alone. The more they sobered, the quicker they were realizing I was dangerously mad. I was beyond mad. I couldn't even feel my hands or feet. They were fumbling all over themselves with excuses and weak rationalizations to try and sway my rage. None of that mattered. All that mattered was that he didn't trust me. It made all the other things that seemed off in the house come into sharp focus. Why I wasn't invited to all his meetings with Jack. Why I wasn't ever put in charge of Anya. Why they'd give me a job so simple Colette had solved it without any knowledge.

The car hadn't even been put into park when I threw open the door and jumped out, slamming it on Colette and Luc's pleas to calm down. I stormed through the house, into our private wing, down the hallway, ripped open the private study door and pointed at a startled Jack and Elodie who both had their hands on their guns and barked,

"Out!"

"_Kukl_…" Stellan started to say and I snapped my eyes toward him making the rest of my nickname die in his mouth. Jack and Elodie practically sprinted out of the office, their dress shoes squeaking awkwardly across the hardwood, the door shutting firmly behind them. I took a few measured steps toward him feeling like if I opened my mouth actual fire was going to completely engulf him. It made a single dark huff of laughter escape my chest. Fire wouldn't hurt him, now would it? The laugh seemed to be the tipping point for him because he paled before me and started to fumble out,

"I...I know…"

"Was I medically cleared when I left the hospital?" I cut over him. The smooth and even tone I used made the question sound dangerous somehow. He tensed and cursed in French under his breath. I took a few more slow steps toward him, my blood thrumming with all my fiery rage.

"I didn't lie to you." He quickly said, shifting in his chair.

"Saying it that way implies that you knew to omit that from me was a lie itself." I evenly continued, crossing my arms over my chest, every breath I took making my chest tighten with constraint.

"I wanted to," he straightened in his seat and I cut over him again and right to the core of this,

"Why don't you trust me?"

"No." He shot up and circled the desk, but then backed away from my stance. "I trust you, Avery."

"Why should I believe you?" I looked him up and down.

"I trust you most of all." He implored.

"That's why I'm not invited to all these meetings you keep having with Jack?"

"Those meetings are about Lydia and Alistar."

"And?" I snapped, the rage building again.

"Forgive me if I wanted to spare you from the ways we're torturing information out of them. The waterboarding got more names this week. You wanted to hear that?" He cracked back.

"I don't want to hear it, but I need to." I sliced my hands through the air, emphasizing the point. "I need to at least know you trust me enough to keep me informed."

"I trust you." He stopped and took a settling breath, reaching out a hand and thinking better of it again. "I'm trying to protect you from the ugliest parts of this. You've already been through enough."

"Why can't I watch Anya?" I pressed, unconvinced of all his pacifying.

"Of course you can." He immediately replied, confused.

"It's always everyone else taking her to all the appointments. I can help with that. I'm just stuck in this fucking house doing nothing." I gestured widely around the room.

"I didn't want to impose. You're not her nanny." He evenly explained.

"Why would it be an imposition? I adore her."

"I'm sorry." He replied, looking genuinely upset that he hadn't thought of it that way. I wanted to believe him, I did. But now I was questioning everything, he always had some kind of reason to give me to continue to hold me back.

He reached out toward me in my hesitation and I backed away, still too angry to be touched,

"You can't have trust without respect, Stellan. I thought we were going to be honest with each other. I thought we were a team."

"I'm just trying to protect you. You've been through so much too fast. I wanted to give you what I didn't get to have. No one gave a shit that I was having panic attacks and crying myself to sleep when I joined the Circle. They just kept piling it on top of me to see if I'd break." He reached out this time and ran the tips of his fingers through the curling ends of my hair. "I don't want to break you."

"I'm not that fragile. You have to stop seeing me that way." I countered, crossing my arms over my chest.

"And I don't think you understand how crushingly exhausting all this can be. It's something you'll need to ease into, not jump head first. I wanted to give you as much time as possible to rest. You…" he moved so close I could feel the heat coming off him. He whispered, "you died. Barely a month ago. Is it wrong to be worried about you considering what we've been through?"

"No. You are," I started and stopped. Suddenly I had a flash of Ibiza. Colette and I on the giant white bed, Femme Fatale red nail polish, and all the things she told me he'd be for me. "You are my fiercest protector."

I grabbed his hand, squeezed, and then pulled it to my lips to kiss the top of it. He relaxed a little in front of me as I stared unflinchingly into his waiting face, "but you are not my Keeper anymore. I'm not Luc. I'm…"

I trailed off. Even though my brain finished the thought with - your wife, my lips couldn't form the words. He squeezed my hand to encourage me to finish but my panic just made me swallow dryly.

"You're what?" He pushed and for a split second I saw this flash of longing fill his face. Did he want me to say it? Did he already call me that in his head? Is that how he spoke of me in public? Well of course he did. The Circle and the Order both thought we were married. But did Stellan? I swallowed again and finished with,

"I'm much more responsible than him."

Stellan slumped a little with what I could only assume was disappointment. My throat tried to correct it, say the words I knew in my heart he wanted to hear, but I pressed my lips together. He recovered almost too quickly and smiled that fake smile at me,

"Too true." He dropped my hand and made his way back over to his desk. "I suppose you should go get Anya then. She's down at the stables."

He turned his back to me and started texting on his phone. My throat tightened again, trying to force the words out but now the moment was gone, and he was concentrating on the stacks of files on his desk, and I felt miserable. I turned and left.

* * *

Even Anya's giggling excitement at me being the one picking her up couldn't lift my mood. And as the evening wore on around me I finally couldn't take it anymore and feigned exhaustion. Elodie had reminded me I needed my beauty rest anyway, we had a very big morning. It wasn't every day you went to the fake graves of your psychopath family.

As I'd hugged Colette goodnight and goodbye she pulled me tighter and whispered in my ear,

"Call me. Anytime at all."

"I will," I forced myself to smile back, her worried eyes pouring over me before she let me go and turned back to the group. I drug myself to my room, changed, and crawled onto the four poster, watching the clock in my depression for a while and falling asleep before Stellan came to bed.

* * *

We stood in front of the mausoleum for a good five minutes when Stellan leaned toward me and whispered,

"We have to go in there."

I wrapped my arms tighter around my ribs. The small black beading of my dress digging into my skin. The fabric fluttered around my knees in the humid breeze that pushed through all the trees around us. It was just the four of us, Jack and Elodie staying a considerate distance behind us. Even though we'd left them at the gate I could still feel all the cameras on my back.

A flash of anger bubbled against my restraint. We didn't have to go in there, but we were expected to. The mass of marble was stained black and brown with age in some spots, off-white in others. Moss was growing in some of the crevices of the pillars and scalloping. It appeared that the only thing that was maintained consistently was the name above the wrought iron gate, gleaming white. SAXON.

"Their bodies aren't even in here," I grumbled back at Stellan dropping my arms in frustration. He instantly grabbed my hand, squeezing.

I wasn't sure why we were whispering. The property managers had ensured a wide berth of privacy for this visit so I could 'properly mourn in peace'. I'd dug my nails as hard as I could into my palm on that comment, just to ensure I at least looked pained in response. The only reason I could figure we were whispering was out of respect for the dead - but I didn't know any of these bones. It might be my heritage, my predecessors, but nothing about this place spoke to me.

"What's the holdup?" Elodie hissed at me, sliding up on my other side. Where Stellan had been patiently waiting for me to make the first move, Elodie had grabbed my elbow with purpose. The panic seized in my chest and I blurted out,

"I don't want to do this."

"We've been over this," Elodie gave me a little tug. "It's for the cameras and the blurb in Page Six."

"We're here. They got me walking up. I don't have to actually go in there." I argued back.

Elodie tugged me again, I dug my heels into the damp ground. Stellan started anxiously rubbing the inside of my wrist. Elodie leaned closer and growled into my ear so low I almost didn't hear it, "you will do this. Quickly. It is tearing Jack up being here."

All my anger washed out with my shock. Of course it was, there was _one_ Saxon buried here - Oliver. And I was fighting this like some insolent toddler. I felt horrible at how inconsiderate I was being. _Do it for Jack._ I shook them both off me, "I'll do it alone."

Before anyone could protest I yanked my heels out and started walking, making sure the spikes didn't squelch back into the mud, taking in a bigger breath with every step. The gate creaked as I worked it open, stuck from age and rough under my hand. The landing and steps up into the mausoleum were short, I had to take them on my toes. But once inside my clicking heels echoed in the space. It was much bigger than I'd expected. The high, small cutout windows let in enough light to examine everything. There were six stone shelves that ran the entire length of the back wall. Each one filled with perfectly spaced decorative vases that I assumed were ashes. This was a burial site after all. To my left and right were coffin-sized stone rectangles that seemed to be rising from the ground underneath, seamlessly. I'm sure it was supposed to be elegant and symbolic, but it made something ugly and panicky rise in my chest looking at them. In the far left corner was more wrought iron fencing that led down into a dark hole. There was no way I was going into that.

My chest started to tighten the longer I looked around. I tried to just look at the wall of ashes instead but it wasn't helping. How long was long enough? Some people never mourned their loved ones, why did I have to pretend to? It hit me so acutely that all the unexplainable panic I felt from the stone coffins shattered in my chest at the grief. I hadn't mourned my mother. I hadn't even seen her grave. I hadn't identified her body. I didn't get to pick out what she wore. Or make sure they'd done her hair correctly, she hated a middle part. Had they buried her with her pearl earrings? With the thin gold chain bracelet on her wrist? Or was someone hanging on to that for me? Where? Paris? Had anyone even gone to the burial? What did her grave even look like? Were there flowers? Were they yellow? They needed to be yellow.

The tears were pouring down my face before I sucked in the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding. It was sharp and echoed in the emptiness. I had to get out of here. I wiped at my face knowing I'd just smeared all the carefully applied makeup. I fumbled with my oversized black sunglasses in the pocket of my dress. They fell from my shaking hands, clattering to the ground and I let out a broken,

"Shit."

More tears started falling, hitting the dusty floor making it darken. My breath caught in my chest as I looked at the pattern my tears had made on the ground. That seemed so familiar to me, like deja vu. The horrible, ugly, panic I'd felt before swelled with all the misery. All the murky shapes in my minds eye forming into something I wanted to forget. The tomb. I had to leave. Now. I scooped the glasses from the floor and shoved them on my face, marching out and past all three of them without stopping.

"Avery?" Stellan called after me. I shook my head and kept moving down the path,

"We're done," I called back over my shoulder and then wiped at my face again, tears hanging on my chin and pooling under my glasses. I shook them off my hands onto the path as I stalked away as fast as I could.

They followed behind, silently. We all climbed back into the car, silently. I kept wiping at my face without removing my glasses. And it stayed that way for almost the entire forty-five minutes back to London. I couldn't help but wonder if they were thinking the same thing I was. Four orphans in a car - mourning graves they'd never see. I didn't ask.

Instead, I leaned my head against Stellan's shoulder trying to repress my shaky exhales as I composed myself. He leaned his head on top of mine and I grabbed his hand and threaded our fingers, squeezing the firm warmth to try and bring myself back from all the misery. He brought his head back up and then whispered into my ear,

"_Khorosho_?"

I shrugged and softly answered back, "_nyet_."

I noticed both Jack and Elodie's eyes dart toward us though they continued to pretend to be looking at their screens. I wanted to tell him what had happened but I certainly didn't want an audience for it. I didn't know enough Russian to just say it without them knowing. I snuggled harder against his arm.

"What happened in there?" He pushed as the car finally pulled past the gate back at Riberton. We crunched up the driveway and I murmured,

"I remembered something else."

Jack and Elodie couldn't stop themselves this time. Their faces both turned toward us as the car parked, waiting for me to continue. I fiddled with the hem of my dress to stall. Stellan shifted next to me, lifting his free arm up onto the back of the seat. When the door opened he gestured toward it and commanded,

"Out."

For an instant both their faces flashed annoyance but they complied, Jack telling the driver we'd get out on our own and to give us space. As they all entered the Hall Stellan turned back to me.

"What did you remember?"

"The tomb, it rose out of the ground - seamlessly. Right?" I asked and glanced over at him. He nodded. I squeezed my eyes shut as it kept coming over me in small bursts of memory. Stellan closed his other hand around our joined ones, holding me in perfect silence.

"And the blood. I remember," I stopped and he squeezed my hand, "how it hit the ground as it fell off my arm."

"What else?" He quietly asked.

It bubbled to the surface,

"I cut too deep. I remember your face. You were panicking but you were also…" I stopped and opened my eyes to look at him, "in pain. So much pain."

He nodded and looked out toward the front of the car, his mouth frowning before he said,

"I know that I was. But I just don't remember the pain exactly. That's where it starts to black out for me."

He looked back at me with this intensity I couldn't quite place. I couldn't tell if he was going to kiss me or hug me or punch the seat.

"Thank you." I quietly said.

"For what?" He was confused.

"Telling them to leave."

"Of course. It's not their business, it's ours." He firmly replied.

The gratitude filled me. He got it. He understood this need to keep some things private. This, in particular, was something I never wanted to talk about with anyone else. No one could understand it, could possibly relate to it as he could. He squeezed my hand and started to let go, but I held on and tugged him with me, keeping our hands threaded together as we slowly made our way back to the private wing together.

* * *

"You look," I broke off trying to find the perfect way to describe him. Stellan grabbed my hand sliding it up it up into the crook of his arm so that I could balance against him on these ridiculous shoes.

"Handsome?"

"Like a groom." I laughed, and then immediately tried to quite myself back down. Rule number 12, no inappropriate outbursts. But it was an accurate description. With his perfectly tailored, three-piece gray suit and my white dress with an intricate updo to hide all my pink highlights, we looked like we were walking down the aisle together. Add into that the grandeur of the hallway we were being escorted down and I half expected to hear _Ava Maria_ and sniffles from a crowd. I probably could have thrown my fancy hat as a bouquet, it certainly cost enough. It also wouldn't be used for more than a couple minutes total, much like a bouquet - going to and from the chopper.

Jack finally caught up to us from the helipad and held up the small box I'd put the present in, "all set."

"Let's go my blushing bride." Stellan drawled and the three of us made our way to the discrete elevator outside the private secretary's office and the waiting attendant.

Despite my nerves, I was still soaking it all in. The distinct red carpets that ran all throughout the hallways. The commanding white pillars vaulting up into the domed ceiling that was lit with magical golden light somehow. The intricacy of literally anything you looked at, even the curtains of this place were threaded with golden patterns.

As the door to the elevator opened my nerves erupted out from my stomach to invade every square inch of my body. Stellan squeezed me closer, somehow noticing, and I relaxed against him. The metal doors slowly opened and the attendant gestured down the hall toward another waiting attendant. Here I was thinking we had too many people waiting on us, the Queen had an elevator guy.

A door at the end of the hallway opened and we were ushered into a sitting room with comfortable but dated looking couches and the most incredible view of the gardens surrounding the Palace. The landscaping was lush and deep green. As a breeze caused the surrounding forest to come alive the fading summer sun made everything sparkle. The attendant gestured toward a chair facing toward the garden at the small table that sat six. My chair was closest to the one at the head of the table, and to my surprise, they ushered Stellan toward the one behind me. I gripped onto the top of it and stood, waiting. Rule number four - one must remain standing until Her Majesty is seated.

I'd locked myself in the red door room all morning cramming the book into my brain. Front loading before a test, just like every final I'd had to take in high school. I knew I wouldn't remember any of this if you asked me about it two weeks from now, but I would know it all for this next hour - and that was all that mattered. The only time I actually stopped trying to memorize the book was when Gemma had knocked and entered, holding a blue velvet box containing a pearl bracelet that had belonged to Queen Caroline. I'd told her to wrap it up and give it to Jack as I'd left to have Elodie torture me into perfection for this moment.

Now here I stood, unable to even look at the food I was so nervous as a separate door at the back of the room opened and Her Majesty walked in. She was in a matching light blue jacket and skirt combo that looked boxy on her but still regal with her hair swept up and off her face.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." She smiled kindly at me.

I bowed, rule number one, and then remembered rule number two, "thank you for receiving us on such short notice Your Majesty."

"Please sit," she gestured to the table laden with food. Thoughtfully arranged on tiered silver serving platters were an assortment of scones, finger sandwiches, and small cakes. The table also held clotted cream and strawberry preserves alongside the milk and sugar for the two pots of tea. The china was beautiful, a delicate floral pattern on every piece and the silverware was so polished I could see myself in it. My nerves lurched again in my stomach and I seriously wondered if I'd be able to actually eat any of it.

Once she was seated comfortably in her chair we both sat. I crossed my legs at the ankle under the table - rule number twenty-two. Her Majesty then rose again, grabbing the pot and efficiently serving us both a cup of tea before gesturing toward the rest of the items on the table. I picked a cucumber sandwich and small chocolate cake and settled back in my chair, glancing over as Stellan piled food onto his plate. Why wasn't he so nervous? I snapped my eyes back toward the Queen as she finished fixing her tea and waited as she rose the fine china to her lips and took the first sip. As she set it down she casually asked, "so are they actually dead or have you just detained them?"

I forced myself to clear my throat so I wouldn't blurt out something offensive. I was really glad neither of us had taken a sip of tea yet. Stellan shifted uncomfortably behind me and I noticed that the Queen's eyes were rested solely on mine. No pressure.

"Both," I answered. Short and sweet, just like Elodie had drilled into me. The Queen hummed and took another sip of her tea, Stellan and I busied ourselves to do the same just to break up all the tension.

"Alistar Saxon and I had certain arrangements in place. Specifically with media control." She said and then set her cup down, waiting for me to respond to that. My brain blanked for a moment and then I quickly recovered,

"Those remain. I have no intention of changing anything that's working."

"Just usurp the Circle." She smiled genuinely at me and Stellan let out a cough behind me. But anger flared in the pit of my stomach.

"Claim our birthright. There's a difference." I quickly answered back.

"You weren't born into this. It's destiny." She countered, straightening her shoulders as she took another sip.

"I didn't ask for this." I evenly replied.

"Destiny only demands." She leaned back. "You are interesting. So inexperienced, but with a fire inside you."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." I looked down at my uneaten food.

"What do you think of London?" She asked taking a bite of her scone.

"It's humid," I answered, still recovering, realizing far too late I'd popped off with the first thing that had come to mind instead of a measured answer. My breath froze in my chest as I looked up but she gave a small chuckle.

"Why do you think I leave every year?" She smiled.

It continued like that for the next twenty minutes or so, like a bizarre job interview over scones and tea. She asked about our plans for the summer, places I'd lived in America, if Stellan had ever gone to Sweden, how his sister was adjusting to her new life. She inquired about when I'd meet with the Prime Minister and if we'd made contact with some of the more prominent members of Parliament. She commented on how healthy I looked despite just being released from the hospital and speculated on when would be a good time to meet with her grandson and his family.

I had to squeeze my fists under the table so I didn't let off how excited I was about that prospect. Or the fact that she was probably one of the only people in the world that could call them that. I'd still have to call them the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. As she had the table cleared of all but the tea and a few remaining desserts I remembered the question I had wanted to ask her. That wasn't part of the book. But I figured it might be my only chance to catch her off guard and prove I wasn't just some vapid party girl that was going to squander away all that had been given to me. I took my final sip and went for it,

"If you don't mind I did have a question for you."

She perked up at this prospect and set her cup down, waving her hand to have the table cleared.

"By all means."

"What was it that prompted you to change the law about eligibility to rule?"

"I had no idea that had trickled down to the Colonies." She started. Stellan chuckled behind me as the final few items were removed and I heard a commotion down the hall. "I always put the crown before everything and the people have spoken. I don't see why my great-granddaughter would be any less qualified to rule than her brother. It is a new era, it was time for a change."

I nodded, grateful that she'd even entertained the question. She stood and we immediately followed suit as a door opened and at least six corgis bounced into the room to circle around the Queen. She smiled down at them, giving a few pats and I felt Stellan nudge my shoulder. I looked up at him and he nodded toward the dogs, giving me a significant look. I barely contained the laugh that tried to escape. Of course he'd remember that now, I shot him a dirty look and then thought about it and shook my head.

"I'm afraid I must go. I still have other items to attend to." The Queen said toward us as she settled some of the dogs down. The main door opened and Jack, as well as a few attendants, entered the space. I held out my hand toward Jack and he passed off the box. The red velvet bow Gemma had perfectly made contrasted nicely against the thick white wrapping paper.

"Your Majesty, before you leave, I bought a gift for you." I presented it to her. The surprise lit across her face and she took it, carefully removing all the wrapping.

"I believe it is yours actually." I continued and she opened the blue velvet box to reveal the pearl bracelet inside. In my peripheral vision, I saw Jack and Stellan hold their breath at the same moment I did, waiting for her response. Her fingers carefully removed it from the case as she examined it with squinting eyes. Then she carefully tucked it back into the box with a smile and reached forward to give my upper arm a tight squeeze.

"Thank you, my dear. I'm glad to see you take after your older brother and not those dreadful younger ones."

Then she turned and left, a herd of corgis surrounding her.

The nerves and unbelievable pressure washed out of me with breath after breath as the attendants walked us back down the same hallway to the elevator. Now that I could relax flashbacks of my 12-year-old Prince Harry shrine bombarded me. In particular the daydream I used to have about going to England and having him fall madly in love with me, surrounded by red carpets and grandeur. Of course, he was far too old for that to ever happen but that's not really what fantasies are for. My mom had always given me an exasperated look whenever I'd rip apart a new magazine she'd been trying to read to find pictures of him.

So I was incredibly proud of my restraint when we exited the elevator and Prince Harry jogged toward us with a grin. Jack and Stellan slowed as he reached us and I was grateful for that small miracle because my heels had somehow fused themselves into the carpet. The shock of it just kept rolling through me in waves, he was there - actually, physically there in front of me! I felt like I couldn't breathe and then I realized it was because I'd stopped breathing. I sucked in this shaky breath through my nose because I didn't trust my mouth in this crucial moment. I could not embarrass myself in front of him.

"Wanted to catch you," he huffed and then held up a finger as he struggled to regain his breath.

I pulled my hat back on in preparation for leaving, but also to give myself something to do other than openly stare at him. I felt the first blush start to form and couldn't fight against it - I was too busy trying to keep myself upright in these heels and breathe at the same time.

"Right." Harry grinned. "Hello. Allow me to walk you out."

Once we were moving I tried to pull the brim of my giant hat down a little to hide the blush but there were no escaping Stellan's eagle eyes. The tips of his fingers brushed along the back of my neck as Prince Harry turned to Jack, clapping him on the back and said with a smile,

"Missed you on the field. You think you could spare some time for the team again?"

"I am honored, but I must decline." He stoically said and Stellan cleared his throat suspiciously. I looked up at him and he smirked. It was all the indication I needed,

"What team?" I casually asked.

"The royal polo team. Jack was a regular on the practice team and a sub for us quite a few times." Prince Harry replied with another hard swat to Jack's shoulder. He jolted a bit with the motion trying to remain stiff and narrowed his eyes at the two of us as I smiled brightly,

"I think we could make an exception."

"I really don't think that's…" Jack started to say and Stellan slung his arm around my waist pulling me close as he cut over him,

"Not a problem at all. It will be quite educational. We know nothing about polo."

"Brilliant!" Prince Harry let out a loud clap and then held out his hand toward me, leaning forward to kiss my left hand,

"Your Majesties."

He'd given me a smirk before he turned and left. I kept the small meep in until he'd turned the corner and then took a few staggering steps toward the waiting open door. Stellan sniggered next to me as we'd walked toward the helipad, saying,

"I knew it."

Jack turned to take a look at me and let out a disappointed groan,

"I thought you were better than that, Avery."

"Don't either of you say a damn word." I hissed through my teeth. And they didn't. But their laughing glances at me and each other were worse than any further chastising would have been - for the entire helicopter ride home.


	11. Chapter 10

"You look lovely," Jack said. "Won't you please come out?"

I rounded the corner to see Stellan leaning against the wall and Jack with a hand on the doorframe speaking directly at Anya's closed bathroom door. Both of them were in their tuxes, shoes shining and filling the hallway with whatever cologne they'd both decided to put on for this. It was, in a word, sexy. Neither of them had noticed me yet since I was holding my shoes in my left hand and I gave myself a minute to just appreciate the view before me.

"We're running late now," Stellan shouted toward the door and I heard Anya sniffle on the other side. They gave each other an exasperated look and Jack noticed me first and gave a bright smile.

"Good!" He waved me over and Stellan glanced over his shoulder and then did a double take. I suddenly felt naked despite all these body shapers, because his eyes were trying to burn my dress off. Jack cleared his throat and I shooed both of them out of my way,

"Anya?" I knocked on the door and tentatively asked, "can I come in?"

There was a long pause and then her tearful voice saying, "only if they leave."

I gave significant looks to Stellan and Jack who took their cue and departed, but not before Stellan gave me another once over as he disappeared around the corner.

"They're gone. Can I come in now?" I tried again and heard her fumble with the lock on the handle and slowly open the door.

I stepped into Anya's huge bathroom, marveling at it for a moment. Everything was gleamingly white, the marble countertops, the brass clawfoot bathtub, the subway tiles that made up the floor to ceiling shower. Even the flooring was white travertine with white grout. Her bathroom was also purple. Her towels were violet, the stack of decorative soaps was lavender, and the display of flowers near the vanity was a mix of hydrangeas and lilacs.

Anya was wiping at her blotchy face on the vanity chair, the bright lights from the bulbs above her catching on all the sparkling hair clips weaving in and out of her intricately braided updo. I pulled at the train of my dress to make sure it had cleared the door and then closed it, locking it behind me, and set my shoes on the ground as I approached her.

"Why are you crying, what's wrong?" I gently asked.

She sniffled, "I hate this dress."

"Anya," I shook my head. "You love this dress. You haven't stopped talking about it. Tell me the truth."

I took the final few steps toward her and leaned against the vanity looking over her dress again. It was a beautiful knee length, a-line cut in champagne with layers of tulle that poofed around her as she sat. There was ruching around the bodice that was held together with a silk bow and a super cute little cape that went around her shoulders. It was the exact opposite of my dress of iniquity. I tried to push down my nerves of wearing it in public again as I gave her a little nudge with my red polished toes to her white flats.

"Elodie put my hair up but now everyone can see my scars." She answered taking in a hitched breath as she tried to stop another wave of tears.

"Okay, okay," I soothed and swung my dress around her and started to immediately pull out all the sparkling clips in her hair. "Let's just keep your hair down."

"Really," she spun around to look up at me, her eyes brimming with tears again.

"Of course," I smiled at her and started carefully unraveling one of her braids. It must have taken Elodie an hour to do her hair. A twinge of guilt twisted in my stomach, but Anya's huge exhale of relief made my fingers keep working.

"I wish I could hide them like you and Stellan." She sniffled and wiped at her face again, pulling herself together.

"I won't get to hide them for everything," I said running my fingers along the next braid to see where it was tucked inside all the weaving and bobby pins. "Besides you should be proud of them."

"I know. Don't. Please," she said squirming a bit on the seat, and then tugged her now loose hair over the translucent scars on the side of her face. "Stellan already told me all this."

"Did he tell you it sucks that you have them but sometimes you just have to do the hard thing?" I pushed as I concentrated on pulling apart the final braid.

"No," she sheepishly answered.

"Because life isn't fair," I continued as I tosseled her hair looking for any errant bobby pins. "But you being invited to this event is pretty amazing. And maybe not to ruin this chance by being embarrassed about something you can't really control."

"Okay." She dejectedly answered and I squeezed her shoulders and carefully crouched down to her eye level, worried I'd somehow rip my couture unless I was standing straight up.

"Okay?" I gave her a bright smile.

"Yes. I'm sorry I caused a scene." She said to her hands, folding them in her lap and pressing her fingers onto the tops. I reached over and grabbed her little hands firmly in my own. She looked up at me with those huge blue eyes and I wanted to squeeze her to my chest, but I held back.

"You didn't. Don't let anyone ever make you feel like you have to do something you don't want to do. Even Elodie." I replied never breaking eye contact. She started nodding, absorbing the advice and took a final settling breath.

"You don't have to walk the red carpet with us if you don't want to." I offered as I stood back up, smoothing my dress down.

"I can do that?" She gasped.

"Go tell Jack," I laughed and she jumped up and gave me a light hug before fumbling with the handle and taking off down the hallway calling out for him.

I checked my lipstick in the mirror and then started shutting off the lights as I reached down and grabbed my shoes on my way out. I startled as I stood and saw Stellan filling the doorjamb, backlit from the hallway lights.

"Jesus," I breathed knocking my shoes against my chest in surprise. He reached forward, grabbed them, tossed them at the ground and then slid his hands across my jaw so he could cup my face and pull me to him. I pressed my hands onto the wall behind me to steady myself as he kissed everywhere but my dark red lips, finishing with kiss after kiss to my forehead.

"Thank you, _lyubov' moya,_" he whispered. "Thank you."

My heart swelled in my chest and I closed my eyes breathing him in as he left a few more lingering kisses toward my hairline. He released me and I opened my eyes to see my favorite smile stretching across his face. I carefully traced his bottom lip as I whispered back,

"You're welcome." Then I took my own settling breath and exhaled, "let's get out of here before I psych myself out." That pep talk was as much for Anya as it was for me.

* * *

Two hours in and it was starting to get crowded. Bodies were pushing closer and closer together and I couldn't understand why. We had the entire Great Court to ourselves and it had been a set list of invitees. I looked up into the dazzling dome, lit red for the event, trying to battle my unnecessary nerves and then smiled blankly as the group around me laughed. The director of the British Museum had been urging me to stick by his side for most of the night, eager to show me off, and tell the same damn story to every group of people we wandered into.

A white-gloved waiter passed with a tray of Caprese salad on a stick and I grabbed two of them, waving off the offer of champagne by the next waitress to circle our group. I, stupidly, had assumed they would be serving dinner at this event. I suppose I'd thought it was some kind of sit down affair with lots of talking at tables - it wasn't.

After I had survived the blinding on the red carpet I'd been forced to stand still in my uncomfortable shoes for over an hour as the director made a rambling speech about all his years at the helm of this historic museum. I was pretty sure 'on loan' was just a fancy way of saying that they'd stolen all these pieces of art and sculpture. At least all our tomb research had alluded to that, but I wisely avoided mentioning it. He then proceeded to thank my family for all they had contributed over the years, reveal the plaque they had made to commemorate Alistar Saxon's memory, and then finished with his sincere hope that it would continue as he stepped down at the end of the year. That had caused a gasp to rise from the crowd and I'd tried to look shocked as well - not really knowing why it was a big deal. All the nerves that I'd thought would stick with me throughout this event escalated as it'd become abundantly clear the director was using me as a publicity stunt.

I'd thought we'd get to sit down after that - we didn't. The director proceeded to guide the group of us around the beautiful curves of the building, lingering for quite some time on the room that held the Rosetta Stone and another with most of their stolen Egyptian artifacts. He really wasn't reading the crowd - none of us wanted to see that. The only thing I wanted to see was a cheeseburger. I nodded my head at whatever the director was saying, searching the room for anything to stave off the boredom, annoyed everyone else had managed to deftly bypass this torture.

I watched as the duo of Jack and Anya were engulfed by the big Russian greeting from the Vasilyevs'. I paused my scan as I watched Elodie in work mode talking with a Hersh Keeper. Finally, my eyes landed on Stellan, it felt mischievous to ogle him in his tux with a crowd this big. I wondered if he could feel my eyes burning into him while he had what appeared to be a very animated conversation with Daniel Meleck. I looked around and found myself trapped with stuffy, elderly British people, aching feet, and a grumbling stomach.

An older gentleman with a dark blue smoking jacket stumbled into me, stepping on the back of my dress and immediately turned, touching my arm in apology,

"So sorry."

"It's fine," I'd snapped off with a tight smile. Way too crowded in here. A trickle of panic started to run down my spine and I abandoned all pretense of paying attention to that same damn story again. I went back to scanning the crowd as I moved away from the giant stone sarcophaguses that surrounded me and back into the Great Court.

Jack had drifted away from Anya a little as he saw me approach, possibly attempting to cover the spread between us as Anya continued chatting away animatedly in Russian. I smiled, only picking up a word here and there, but I could tell she was enjoying herself. Elodie was making her way back into the Egypt Hall, her arm gesturing upward for the group around her, in full art historian mode. Stellan was still on almost the other side of the room from me, further than I felt comfortable with at the moment. I was ready to leave. Right now. But I seemed to be the only one, I realized, as the group let out a laugh at the end of the director's story - again.

The crowd pushed further into me, taking all the space and air with it. It created instant claustrophobia. My mouth dried out in panic. I continued to scan the room, exit's everywhere and yet nowhere because every space was covered by a sea of people. I forced myself out of the heard, taking in a deep breath. Something felt wrong and the panic started to flood my veins as the energy of the room shifted.

I saw it a fraction of a second before Jack did. The glint of the gun rose above the crowd, pointing toward the glass ceiling above us. I grabbed the back of Anya's dress yanking her to the front of me. Jack lunged toward us, but the building crowd had pushed him too far away. Anya shrieked. POP. The shot echoed around all the white curves of the Great Court. Silence. Then the panic.

The room erupted in screams quickly followed by shoving. I wrapped my arm around Anya's waist and dragged the two of us back toward the makeshift bar, ducking under it as chaos vibrated around us. Another shot. This one in our direction, not close enough to matter and yet still far too close. Anya screamed. I pulled Anya's face against my stomach. I watched in horror as guests started falling everywhere. I could hear the sounds of ripping fabric as women fell to the marble floor. People were being kicked and trampled in the mad dash for the doors. Platters of desserts and stemware were smashing around us. Someone bumped the table next to us and bottles of champagne shattered on the ground, spraying us with the bubbles. A blur of gowns and tuxedos were scrambling in a thronging crush of bodies toward all the exits at the front.

I pulled her closer to me, watching Jack struggle to get through the crowd toward us. POP. POP. POP. A quick succession of shots. My ears began ringing. The crowd parted for a moment, enough for me to see a wave of black suits and guns pushing toward where I'd seen the gun. The fire alarm wailed. The strobing lights burned my eyes. Anya started sobbing, this panicked mix of Russian and English blubbering from her mouth. I squeezed her closer and harshly ordered,

"Quiet. We're going to be fine."

Hands reached under the table and started to yank Anya from me. I wrapped my other arm around her and pulled back, slamming myself into the metal leg of the table in the process. I kicked my pointy heels at the hands, my only defense, as more glasses and bottles came crashing to the ground. I covered her head trying to protect her from the broken glass.

"Avery!" Jack's voice reached me. The table was pushed away from us and Jack locked eyes with me. "Give her to me!"

A team of people circled Jack, I didn't recognize any of them and yet they were protecting him. No. Not him. Anya. They must be Order. On instinct, I shoved Anya into his hands. He'd protected me from far worse, if anyone could get Anya out of here it was him. He grabbed her to his chest, pressed his finger to his ear and yelled,

"CLEAR."

Jack took off in the opposite direction of the chaos into the museum, the team of four people flanking him. Anya's head lifted from Jack's chest and she screamed out to me,

"Avery!"

I shook my head at her yelling,

"Go with Jack!"

Two sets of hands wrapped around my arms practically lifting me off the ground and I was moving. Elodie was on my left, one of the Saxon household guards on my right. I struggled in my heels to keep my feet moving as fast as they were. Elodie pressed her finger to her ear and barked,

"CLEAR."

We made an abrupt right, in the opposite direction of where I'd seen Jack and Anya march off toward. I wanted to protest, to follow Anya, but there was another Saxon guard in front, gun drawn, and with a glance behind me two more. We clipped through the museum too fast. Their ironclad grips ensured I wasn't going to trip but I couldn't stand my dragging heels. I kicked them off, leaving them behind one at a time as we emerged out a side door and into an alley. There were two waiting town cars and a driver examining up and down the alley as he stood by the back passenger door of the first car. The guard in front stood on the other side of the door and yanked it open. Elodie pushed me inside and I squirmed and struggled to get myself and the dress to fit in the space. She slid in next as another Saxon guard climbed in immediately after. The door hadn't even closed before the car peeled out and speed down the alleyway. The door slammed shut on part of my dress from the speed. Weren't we going to wait for everyone else? Where was everyone else? The panic I'd been forcing back down in the Great Court finally took hold. I yanked at my dress attempting to free myself and turned toward Elodie demanding,

"Where is Stellan?"

"Not confirmed yet." She distractedly answered, pressing her finger to her ear again.

She turned away from me, eyes narrowing as she seemed to be listening to something. Even the Saxon guard looked down as he held a finger to his ear. The silence was maddening. The panic swelled in my chest, making each breath tighter and harder to complete. I heard my breaths quicken in the car, my heartbeat was loud in my ears. An all too familiar metallic taste returned to my mouth as the adrenaline continued to pour into my bloodstream.

I squirmed again against the awkward angle I'd landed in, trying to get into a comfortable position, to collect myself. The small of my back was resting on the edge of the seat, my head where my back should be, my legs across both Elodie and the guard's legs. Every time I tried to sit up I slid on the fabric of my dress back down. When I could manage to get some purchase, Elodie would shove me back down, keeping my head away from the window. My train was caught in the door, pulling the fabric awkwardly around my body every time I'd move. It felt like it was slowly cocooning me, constricting me, like an anaconda. A stitch pinched in my side. I couldn't breathe. I tugged and pulled futilely at the fabric. I tried to push at it with my fingers to ease the pain through the shaper but it just made the pain ripple through the rest of my chest.

I gasped, the motion incredibly uncomfortable. Pain burned through my lungs and it all bombarded me at once. Fast and vividly real the memories snapped into place with each sucking breath. Blood down my shoulder, all over my Prada dress. Blood on my hands, soaking into my Venice dress. Blood smearing on my face and hands, wiping it on my Fashion Week dress. I looked down at my dress tonight, dark and shimmering. I gasped, but there wasn't any blood.

"Oh no." I sucked in, the breath so shallow and short. Everything started to darken at the edges. I twisted in my seat trying to grab at the hooks on the back of my dress.

"Avery?" Elodie questioned, confused. I feebly pulled at the fabric again feeling like the dress was strangling the last of the air out of me. I struggled to take in a breath. _I can't breathe. I can't breathe._ I tried to tell her with my eyes. Her brown ones widened with panic. Her face went ashen. She dropped her gun to the ground and scrambled to try and reach my hooks herself. Another tiny breath managed its way into my aching lungs, but I knew it wasn't enough. There was no way that was enough oxygen. _I can't breathe!_

"Please. No. Not again," she fumbled with the fabric, ripping loose a line of beadwork to try and get to the dress and my shaper. They plunked to the floor spreading wide as the car made a sharp right turn. Her panicked voice was muffled in my thoughts, it sounded far away now. "Breathe!"

I tried again, mouth open like a goldfish, the gasp barely pulling enough in. Elodie pulled me onto my side and started frantically ripping at the beadwork. I saw the Saxon guard pull out a knife. We slammed around another tight right turn, a bump jarring me upward and then slamming me back down onto the edge of the seat. The last of the air I'd been holding in my burning lungs released with a grunt. The Saxon guard handed Elodie his knife. Her shaking hands moved toward me and all I could think was blood. Blood on this dress too. The world dipped into black.

* * *

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

"...panicked. It was Egypt all over again." Elodie's quiet voice broke through my hazy mind.

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

"You did fine. Just like in Egypt." Stellan. Relief flooded me, filling all the aching parts of my body with warmth. I pressed my ear against his chest, realizing now what that sound was.

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump._

His fingers trailed down my hair, so lightly it tickled. Elodie sniffled and then snapped back at him, "don't you fucking dare. Do not make light of that day. Ever."

"How could I?" He replied his voice tight and quiet. "You've saved her, again."

His lips pressed lightly on the crown of my head. I felt myself stiffen as his words rolled around in my brain. Again? She saved me in Egypt? Stellan shifted and Elodie made a little noise of questioning intrigue. They both grew quiet and I realized they weren't going to speak about that any further. My stiffening had given me away. I let out a dry cough and decided to crack open an eye. It was dark in here, only the lamp on my bedside providing a pool of soft, yellow light on the bed. No point in pretending to sleep now. I took a survey of my aching body and realized I was still in my ruined dress. The side had been split by the knife, exposing my bare back, beads and sequins were still slowly falling off the fabric and pooling in the bed between Stellan and I. The train was ripped and ruined. But no blood. I pushed myself off of Stellan's chest and sat next to him in the bed. Moving around made my chest ache a little, but my breath was coming fluidly in and out of my lungs now.

"No," grumbled a little voice and I peeked over Stellan to see Anya curled in a ball on his other side, her back flush against his leg. She was still in her party dress as well, her hair falling across her face. Stellan pulled off his bowtie and threw it at the foot of the bed and I glanced over at Elodie. She and Jack were on the settee against the wall, mostly in shadows. Jack was asleep sitting up, his head resting against the wallpaper, his limp hand in Elodie's lap as she wiped at her face and nose and gave me a grim smile. The five of us. Safe. Together. I let out a very long breath between my lips. All the pain and panic from before erased, replaced with a bone-deep exhaustion. Elodie pulled on Jack's hand and with a grumble, he shook awake and rubbed at his face as he realized I was too. There was a comfortable silence between the four of us as we all looked at each other in relief. Anya shifted again and we all froze until she snuggled back down into the comforter and Stellan's leg.

"What happened?" I whispered.

"It was a stress test." Elodie quietly answered. I felt my face scrunch in confusion.

"A what?"

"A way to see where all the holes in our security are." She leaned back against the wall and Jack squeezed her thigh. She didn't look reassured.

"We passed." Stellan murmured.

"It was a draw." Elodie shot him a look. "Avery saved her panic attack for the car so we didn't alert them to her conditions. But the Order got Stellan and Anya out - which revealed our double security."

"Which most people already assumed." Stellan quietly countered.

"Who would be testing us?" I wondered aloud.

"The Melech's," they all said at the same time, a bit too loudly. Anya stirred again and we all went quiet for a couple minutes until she settled.

"What makes you say that?" I whispered to Stellan. He pressed his lips together, glancing at the clock and then Anya before answering,

"They purposefully detained me with nonsense right before the attack. Then separated Jack and Elodie from you as well."

"Plus Daniel Melech and Lydia were close. They'd been working on some project together. I'm sure he's not the only ally she had but this confirms at least their Family," Jack added on.

"We should already be sending a team to investigate." Elodie implored, leaning forward so she didn't have to raise her voice.

"No. We wait." Stellan commanded. Jack and Elodie both frowned. He continued, "there is no way to prove it. We just know their tactics because we've done it before ourselves."

"What do you mean?" I looked between the three of them.

"Standard Dauphin procedure," Elodie confirmed. She gave me a sad smile, "we even did it to you, Avery."

The ball. The ball inside the Eiffel Tower, when I'd been trying to talk to my father. It felt so far away now. My stomach churned. The room grew quiet again, just Anya's small breaths and the ticking of the clock.

"Go to bed," Stellan spoke softly, but it still broke up the silence. No one needed to be told that twice. Jack stood and offered Elodie a hand up. She linked her arm through his and leaned against his shoulder.

"You want me to take her to her room?" Jack nodded toward Anya. Stellan shook his head, gently sweeping the hair off her sleeping face. They both smiled at the action and then quietly left.

"Are you okay?" Stellan whispered and then leaned over to kiss my temple.

I closed my eyes, relishing the relief of having him next to me and took inventory of my body. I wasn't physically hurt in any way but I still couldn't shake the panic. I'd seen Jack and Elodie with my own eyes, Anya was asleep next to us, I could feel Stellan holding me and every slow exhale from his chest and I still felt like we were a second away from disaster. It made my chest actually hurt, this aching pain that let out pulses of adrenaline into my bloodstream making my battered heart thump harder in my chest. I didn't know what to do with it. I'd never felt this way before and as it started to build within me I realized I didn't know how to stop it either.

Stellan kissed my hair again and I slumped with exhaustion against him. How could I have passed out and still feel this tired? I looked at the clock - 1 AM. I didn't have the stamina or the will to puzzle this out right now. Maybe if I slept this off I'd wake up tomorrow feeling better, it was quite a scare for everyone involved.

"Tired," I answered and slid down the bed until my back was against his other leg.

"Okay," he whispered and started gently raking his fingers through my hair, petting me back to sleep.

* * *

I was taking my second sip of coffee when Elodie tossed a handful of newspapers onto the dining room table next to my eggs and toast.

"Congratulations to me." She boasted with a big smile across her face. I took another sip and poked at all the front pages - my face plastered on every single one. "Three days later and they are still covering this!"

"Great job," I grumbled. I didn't want to point out the obvious - that she was more than likely telling them to keep covering the story. She seemed happy and I was too tired to really care.

She grinned, "_merci._"

"Think of how many days you could have gotten if someone had died this time." I flippantly offered and spread them across the table to get a better look.

_Terror at the British Museum_

_Chaos and Couture_

_West Terrorized Again_

_West at Center of More Terrorism_

"Who pissed in your coffee?" Elodie grumbled, my comment erasing all the victory on her face.

"Sorry. I didn't sleep well." I said into my cup. That was a lie. I wasn't sleeping at all. When my body would make me pass out I'd wake up covered in sweat and gasping from nightmares I couldn't quite remember. Half the time Stellan wasn't even in bed next to me when I did. Those instances usually meant I tossed and turned for hours as the pressure built in my chest. I didn't know what was wrong. If it was my heart condition, leftover anxiety from the incident, or something new altogether. I kept my mouth shut, not knowing if they'd ship me back to the hospital if they knew. After all my impressive progress, one night had sent me right back to where I'd started - exhausted and unable to effectively help our family.

Drinking my coffee I ran my fingers across all the pictures as Elodie grabbed her buzzing phone from her pocket. She let out a frustrated huff and pocketed it back, settling next to me as we examined them together.

"Guess which one isn't owned by the Saxons," Elodie arched an eyebrow at me and then flipped over the last one so we didn't have to look at the title anymore.

Each arrangement of pictures on the front page started with this wide shot of the guests in their couture crying on the steps outside the museum. Then the remaining pictures were of me - standing next to Stellan on the red carpet, looking engaged during the dedication, politely mingling with various famous people. Out of curiosity, I flipped over the other newspaper that wasn't being manipulated by Elodie and the pictures told a much different story. The first three were of me laughing and smiling at various points in the night juxtaposed against a closer angle of all the British Museum patrons sobbing on the steps.

"Don't worry about that." Elodie quickly said, snatching up all the papers and folding them under her arm. "Could you do me a favor?"

I looked up in alarm. This was a first. She narrowed her eyes at my reaction and I quickly shot off, "it's going to be awful isn't it?"

"Can you watch Anya today?" She answered, giving me a withering look. "Or will that cut into your nap time?"

"I stopped taking naps for your information." I cracked back.

"Do I need to make you a diploma for your graduation from primary school?" She asked giving me a wolfish smile.

"Considering I was in a coma not even a month ago I think that's pretty good progress," I answered, crossing my arms over my chest with a smug smile of my own. Elodie's face dropped and for a flash of a moment I could see how exhausted she was, and even worse, how much effort she was putting into looking like she wasn't. But just as quickly it was gone and she grabbed the top of the chair next to me to steady herself.

"So good, in fact, I keep forgetting that." She quietly replied. That was as close to an apology as I was going to get. I kept waiting for the rush of victory over winning a verbal sparring match against Elodie to fill me, but it couldn't rise up past the panic. Nothing had in days.

"I'll watch Anya," I said. She grabbed the papers from under her arm and tapped the chair with them a few times before moving on to whatever was about to pull her away for the day. I pushed my untouched food away and kept drinking my coffee, staring blankly at the artwork in front of me on the wall, until my cup was empty.

* * *

"Mila swore she had a Rainbow Bite but I never believed her." Anya huffed tossing her riding boots across the room and flinging herself onto the high back chair to yank at her socks.

"Oh really," I automatically answered, stumbling toward her boots in my haze.

"It's true. It's an ultra rare and even Katia didn't have an ultra rare." Anya nodded and tossed her socks toward me. I managed to catch one but not the other.

"Oh, Katia, right." I nodded, reaching down to grab the sock as the world spun around me. I put a hand on the back of the couch to steady myself. I was exhausted, my sleep deprivation was making me dizzy and Anya had been talking about Shopkins for two days straight. Two. Days. At first, we were glad she wasn't stressing over the museum incident, but this was beginning to feel torturous.

Everyone was too busy to even join Anya and me for dinner every night. The only reason I knew Stellan was still sleeping in the same bed as I were the warm spots I'd find in the morning when I woke up alone. I knew there was going to be a lot to follow up on after the British Museum stress test, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Do you think we'd be able to find the Candy Cookie ultra rare?" Anya asked the ceiling, her feet in the air above her, her hair falling off the side of the chair.

"Anya," I begged. "I will buy you every Shopkin in the universe right now if we could please talk about something else."

She turned instantly bright red and my mood sunk further. I hadn't meant to embarrass her, I'd just been too exhausted. My stupid fucking mouth.

"Sorry, Avery," she whispered, sitting correctly in the chair and pulling her hair across her cheek.

"I'm sorry," I instantly gushed. She gave me a tight smile and rose from her seat,

"I have some French homework to do."

"Anya," I called after her as she beelined toward her room. "Anya, I'm sorry!"

When I heard her door shut I threw her socks at the wall as hard as I could, it was a very ineffective form of aggression. As they fell limply to the ground I pressed my lips together trying to pull a difficult breath into my lungs. Almost a week later and I still felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest most of the day. I'd looked up the symptoms online which had been a terrible mistake. Apparently, I had stage four lung cancer, walking pneumonia or an anxiety disorder.

The door to the private wing opened to my left as I stared in the direction of Anya's room again, frowning at how terribly I'd botched that.

"What could possibly make you look so concerned?"

I snapped my head back so fast my ponytail whipped into my face. There in all his suit and tie glory was the object of my obsession. He smiled as I pulled a piece of hair out from between my lips. I knew my eyes must be huge but honestly, I had not been expecting to see him today. He checked his phone in his pocket and I deflated,

"So you're only here for a minute?"

"No," he answered loosening his tie. My heart started thudding in my chest.

It had been almost unbearable without him. I hadn't realized just how heavily I relied on something as simple as his presence. Since I'd stepped onto that plane with him a lifetime ago I'd been in contact with Stellan in some way every single day. This week had brought that into sharp focus as I'd waited for texts that never came and watched his dot on my phone as he'd moved all around London. It was incredibly lonely and the few times I'd managed to see his leaving back in the mornings this tumbling mixture of anticipation, desire, worry, and longing would consume me. If he could just touch me...run his broken hands over my broken brain I knew he could fix me and this heaviness in my chest. The anticipation that maybe now he could, made me feel like I might pass out.

He took a few steps toward me, "I'm sorry about this week. I want to make it up to you."

"You do?" I smiled at him. He pulled the shiny black tie off and wrapped it around his hand. My limbs started to burn with anticipation.

"Of course, _lyubov' moya_. I'm here to take you out." He shrugged out of his jacket, laying it over the back of the couch and closing the space between us.

"Really?" The excitement mixed with the pressure in my chest and I leaned heavily against the back of the couch. I wasn't quite sure how to feel about leaving.

He reached forward and cupped my cheek with one warm palm, running his thumb across my cheekbone a few times, "always the surprise with you."

I turned my face into his hand, kissing his palm over and over, ignoring his little tease. I appreciated the gesture, but I didn't want food, I wanted him. I wanted his hands all over me and that feeling of euphoria I knew only he could give me. He must have sensed my desperation because my next kiss was against air as he suddenly boosted me onto the back of the couch.

The height difference was still frustrating, but that was an afterthought as I fisted his royal blue dress shirt and attempted to climb him and pull him down at the same time. My legs wrapped around his own to anchor myself and he slid one hand between my shoulders and the other behind my neck as his lips pressed right onto my own. Hungry and urgent he kept whispering things I couldn't decipher against my lips as he leaned me back.

I started to slide backward and clutched onto the front of him as a shriek muffled against his mouth. He followed me over the back of the couch, half vaulting and half slipping as I re-positioned myself for his descent. Finally, he made it over and pressed into me, hips pushing into hips, and propped himself up with one hand to continue his needy kisses while the other ran down my thigh and started to pull my leg up and around. It was just short of sensory overload. The weight of him, the heat of his body, the heady smell of sweat and smoke and that particular scent I knew to be him but couldn't quite explain swirled in my blood. I wanted more. I arched my back, hooked my leg around his hip and urged him forward with a tug of my leg. He bucked into me with a groan and I laughed against his mouth.

"Ma'am," said a brisk male voice cutting over all our breathy kissing.

Stellan dropped his head onto my neck, his 5 o'clock shadow tickling my skin as he growled, "are you fucking kidding me?"

"Your Majesties," the voice continued and I placed it without seeing the face - Roberts.

A flash of mortification tried to claw up past all the lust and I shot it down. It could be argued that this was exactly like being caught by your Dad, except for the part where he was patiently waiting for us to untangle from each other. Stellan slid off me just enough that I could push myself up and peek my head over the back of the couch. Roberts, in a show of ultimate professionalism, didn't react to this at all. Instead, he showcased a gorgeous red velvet envelope with a familiar crest on the front. He carefully opened it, the lining shining in metallic gold and removed a single piece of heavy cardstock. I could see the embossment of the crest on the other side and immediately knew where it was from - Buckingham.

"The Master of the Household is Commanded by Her Majesty to invite Mr. and Mrs. Stellan Korolov to the opening of the hunting season at Balmoral Castle on 1st August at 9 o'clock in the morning," Roberts read out loud.

My chin pressed into the leather of the couch as my jaw dropped. I looked down at Stellan for a moment and then back at Roberts who was pulling another piece of paper from the envelope. "No way!"

"There appears to be only one hunting license sent," Roberts brow furrowed with confusion as he read it over a second time. "It's for you, Ma'am."

Stellan sat up for that, resting his arm on the back of the couch as he pressed, "look again."

Roberts turned the envelope toward us showing it was empty, and then turned the thin piece of paper around to show a license with just my name on the front.

"It must be a mistake," I tried to pacify but really I wanted to laugh. Me? Hunt? Her Majesty has a wicked sense of humor.

Stellan frowned at me, "she doesn't make mistakes like that. This was done on purpose."

"You're just jealous," I laughed. Stellan held out his hand and Roberts carefully placed all the documents back inside and passed the envelope over.

"Thank you." Stellan dismissed him and Roberts turned and left without another glance.

I grabbed the envelope out of his hand, brushing my fingers back and forth across the velvet as we both settled back down on the opposite ends of the couch. "Why invite you at all then?"

"Customary," he distractedly answered, staring at the table as he puzzled it out. "An invitation without a hunting license is pretty much being uninvited."

"That's ridiculous." I rolled my eyes.

"That's royalty." Stellan quibbed.

We sat in comfortable silence for a moment. It was restorative, the ache in my chest lifted for a moment and I sucked in a delicious, deep breath, closing my eyes on the exhale. As I took in the second one Stellan slid up next to me, his arm across my shoulders, his leg pressed against my own. Did we really have to go out? I wasn't even all that hungry. I could literally spend the rest of the night sitting just like this and it would be one of the best nights of my life. I wasn't sure if that was more depressing or worrisome of a realization.

"Are you going to cancel on me now?" I asked with my next exhale. A smile pulled across my face as I felt his arm tense in response.

"You feel that neglected by me?" He countered, his voice tinged with worry. I shrugged, he kissed my temple and I shifted in his hold to face him.

"So is this a date? Or is everyone invited?"

"It's a date." He answered firmly and then pulled us to standing.

He tucked in the part of his shirt I'd pulled out in our couch session. If this was a date he'd probably bought out some five-star restaurant and arraigned some elaborate interference so we could be alone. But the British Museum had spooked me. I hadn't expected to feel that way after fighting him so vehemently about being able to leave this gilded jail, but the panic percolating back into my chest convinced me otherwise. We had to stay here.

"Then I hope you're a better cook than Jack."

His face quirked into confusion, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't want to have dinner in some empty five-star restaurant like a damn prima donna," I answered pulling my hair out of my ponytail. I watched his eyes detail the movement despite the confusion still across his face. "I don't want to be interrupted."

"Then, what?" He prompted. I ran my fingers through my hair, working out a knot, watching his fingers twitch at his side and smirked,

"I'm going to change while you attempt to impress me like a real boyfriend would."

He narrowed his eyes, annoyed, and then pulled out his phone, thumbs flying, as he texted someone and answered me at the same time with,

"I find it insulting that I've been demoted back down to boyfriend for attempting to keep you alive for the past month. Mrs. Stellan Korolov." He sent the text off with a final stab of his finger and leveled a look at me. I refused to back down, even though he was right. I shrugged. He unbuttoned his cuffs and started to roll a shirt sleeve up as he continued, "but you're not wrong. A boyfriend would just take you out."

I smiled at him as he rolled up the other sleeve and asked, "then, what?"

"I hope you like pasta. Because it's the only thing I can make."

The laugh rolled up from the bottom of my stomach and I leaned forward resting my head on his pectoral as all the pressure in my chest started to break apart again. He instantly ran his fingers through my hair, over and over like a stream. I pulled back and looked up at him, still shaking with laughter a little,

"It wasn't Anglo by any chance was it?"

"It's too late now." He scolded me, pulling on the ends of my hair lightly. "You'll get pasta and you'll like it."

"Of course, of course!" I pacified. "I have complete faith in your ability."

"You shouldn't." He laughed and then smiled. Really smiled, his eyes sparkling and shoulders dropping as he relaxed. "I hope this little game was worth it."

The smile, my favorite smile, broke across his face and I reached up and traced his lip, biting my own in concentration. The relief and the love swelled in my chest and I shoved it down a little so it didn't turn into tears,

"It was."

* * *

My bare feet in his lap, his thumb running constant circles around my ankle, I resettled in my chair diagonal to his at the head of the table. I twirled a string of pasta around the tines of my fork again, his story about the upcoming Circle visit muffling out in my ears, as I tried to detail the moment of normalcy into my memory.

If I could block out the 24k gold rimmed plates, the priceless artwork on the wall beside me, the thousand dollar bottle of wine sitting between us, it could be any of those dingy apartment dining rooms I lived in. His voice fuzzed out more as the memory of the kitchen in Minnesota flooded me. The way the cabinets could never close all the way because of the shoddy build, with that awful sand colored tile, and the dark brown table and chairs that clashed with the wallpaper so terribly we never ate there. Finally, my mom, chopping vegetables at the counter as she asked about my day.

The tears choked me, sudden and demanding, shaking me out of the memory as I looked away trying to blink them back. It only made them fall down my face quicker. His thumb stopped and his voice started to come back in,

"Avery?"

"Sorry. You were saying?" I sniffled, wiping at my face, still looking away. His palm squeezed my ankle and he waited a moment, the silence amplifying my hitched breath and second sniffle.

"What was it?"

I shook my head and then finally locked eyes with his worried ones. I wanted to tell him, I wanted him to know everything about me. That memory is the kind of thing you'd share, the common experience most people have that brings them closer together. But as I tried to speak her name it all caught in my throat on the tears still barely being held back and I shook my head again.

He started up his slow circles around my ankle once more and took a sip of his wine, conceding to my silence. His ability to keep doing that, hear the things I'm not saying, read my moods from just a single movement, understand me without prying into me made the tears flood again toward my burning eyes. I took a shaky breath and then we both turned toward Anya's voice calling out into the house,

"We're back! Where is everyone?"

Next, it was Jack,

"I've already told you, they went to dinner."

The two of them turned the corner into the living room and they had a clear line of sight of the two of us at the table. I twisted in my chair enough to see them and we both waved at Jack and Anya. Her smile broke across her face and she bee-lined around the furniture toward us,

"We have big news!"

"And what's that?" I asked, pushing my plate away and wiping at my cheeks a final time. Her appearance had pushed the tears back down into the box I'd been rebuilding in my chest, in a way that only Anya could.

"We're going to Paris!" Anya exclaimed and smirked at Jack. I was sure Stellan was giving Jack the same glare I was because he ran a hand across his forehead, ducking away from us before clapping it over his compass tattoo.

"What's the special occasion?" I pushed, never breaking eye contact with Jack.

"For their ball!" Anya squealed with a quick spin of delight.

"Oh really?" I smiled at Anya who went for another spin. As she righted herself I caught Stellan giving Jack the same knowing glare that I was. He frowned and then nodded,

"The Dauphin's would like to 'kiss the ring' it would seem."

Behind me, I heard Stellan's wine glass clink against the plate and a long swallow as he set it back down with a thud against the tablecloth. I slumped back in my chair pulling my hands under the table and giving my diamond a quick spin on my finger.

"I've never been to France! I'm so excited to see all the places you've told me about. Will I get to see where you used to live? Will I get to meet Luc's new brother? Will we get to go to the Eiffel Tower? Can we see things on this trip or is it business again?" Anya shot off in rapid fire and I gave Jack a final glare before turning back toward Anya. She had the most eager looking smile plastered across her face and we both watched the immediate response of 'no' die in Stellan's eyes as he took her in.

"Of course." He nodded. She clenched her fists at her side and then took off toward her room.

"I'm going to start packing now!" She called out after us. Jack slowly moved to the seat opposite me and hung onto the back of the chair looking over at Stellan first.

"Luc would have told me." Stellan started, his voice tight.

"It's not Luc's decision to make." Jack pacified.

"No fucking way," Stellan shook his head, reaching for the bottle of wine and giving himself a big pour.

"No one is thrilled with this idea. Least of all Elodie mind you. We all have our reasons to not want to go. But after all the alliances we've already formed and the Koenings coming up - they want to cooperate. We need to do this," Jack finished by squeezing the top of the chair until his knuckles turned white.

"Absolutely not," Stellan snapped and took a big drink of his wine. Jack's shoulders started to tense up the longer he watched Stellan gulp down the wine. The anxiety built in the room and my scar tingled from the stress of it all.

I rubbed at it saying, "I think you're forgetting that we hold all the power here. If we don't go it sends a message."

"If we do go it sends one too," Stellan argued back. "And I'm not ready to pardon their multitude of sins just to play nice."

Jack let out a huff. I slid my feet off Stellan's lap and sat up, putting my hands out trying to pacify him, my arm starting to throb now,

"So make them grovel."

Jack and Stellan snapped their eyes at me, shocked. I jammed my fist into my scar, watching their shock turn to concern as they cataloged the movement. It made the anger flare in my chest, I hated that my scar pain was a distraction from the business at hand. Just one more thing the two of them would always feel they had to monitor and protect about me. I forced myself to ignore the pinching pain and offered,

"If they want to be in our favor than they need to know it comes with a price, and theirs is much higher than anyone else's. We want a formal apology to clear the air and ensure the alliance starts off on the right tone."

Jack looked away, nodding, but Stellan was staring off in the distance, his face a mask of disgust.

"They'd have to do it. With the Emir's, Koning's, Mikado's, Rajesh's, and Fredrick's already lined up and Avery being the Saxons we have half the Circle." Jack confirmed.

"It's not that easy," Stellan replied, still not looking at either of us. He only broke his glare out the door when Elodie appeared. He poured the rest of the bottle into his glass and sat back, brooding.

"We need to do this, S." She quietly said, leaning against the doorjamb. He huffed, looking away from everyone. "At least for closure."

From down the hallway, we heard Anya barreling back toward us and everyone straightened a little, trying to shove all our swirling emotions back into check.

"_Je te rencontre_." Anya tested, then looked at Elodie for approval. Elodie shook her head and corrected her,

"_Ravi de vous rencontrer._"

Anya nodded, Elodie gave her a little wave, indicating to try again and Anya blushed hard before slowly enunciating,

"_Ravi de vous rencontrer._"

"_Merde_," Stellan swore into his glass, downed it and gave me a single, defeated, look before pushing to stand and moving toward Anya,

"Say - _c'est beau_."

Elodie, Jack and I all looked at each other as Stellan led Anya out of the room feeding her more lines in French. Once they'd turned the corner toward the rooms Elodie deflated again, rubbing at the tattoo on her the back of her neck before slinking away. Jack gave me a nod and followed her, his hand slowly sliding down her spine to rest at the small of her back. I looked around the vacated room and frowned at our now empty table.


	12. Chapter 11

After I'd flipped through all 300 channels, twice, alone, in the living room I decided to call it a night. Jack and Elodie hadn't emerged again, I'd heard Anya's door open, but Stellan hadn't come out to join me, and Colette's room was officially empty - on the night I really could have used her help. I looked at my phone and then stopped myself. She asked for a break, I needed to honor that. I punched the power button a little too forcefully and then sighed,

"No, it's cool. I'll just hang out by myself."

It sounded even more pathetic in this empty room. Now that I had spent an entire week wishing I'd somehow be conscious when Stellan was around I found myself still sitting in the silent living room. I wasn't sure what to do now. I shuffled down the hall towards our room and saw light spilling out from under the door. So he _had_ wanted to be alone. I pushed the twinge of disappointment aside because at least I'd been able to give him that. It would appear that my lesson tonight was that he needed a lot of space when he was overwhelmed. A part of me was desperate to know why he was so worried. It made sense why Elodie was distraught after her rebuke right to the Dauphin's faces. But even she'd let Jack support her. Stellan had gone so far as to take a back entrance to our room so he could avoid me.

I tried to remind myself to be patient and understanding, there was so much about him that couldn't have been revealed in the few months we'd known each other. But the anger rolled through me anyway making me clench my fists and then immediately swear at how it shot up all my irritated nerve endings right to my still sore scar. As I rubbed at the spot I heard him call out from behind the door,

"Avery?"

I closed the final few feet to the door and then poked my head in first,

"Hi," I softly answered, tampering my anger. His mouth twitched a little with the hint of a smile and then he looked back down at his phone. He'd already showered and changed, his hair a damp mess, his pajama-clad legs crossed as he stretched out on top of all the covers. It was even worse than I thought, he wasn't in here brooding and pacing the floors. He'd just...moved on with his night. Without me. He surveyed me for a second and then broke our silence,

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to take this out on you." He said to his hands, then locked his phone and tossed it aside focusing on me. "I kept waiting for you to come find me. You usually hunt me down."

"Oh," I said, surprised. So I'd read it wrong after all. "I didn't…"

"It's fine," he cut over me. "It's better actually. I was still far too angry."

He crossed his arms over his chest and I slid into the room and closed the door behind myself, leaning against it. I wanted to push him to clarify what exactly was making him so angry but everything about his posture and energy was warning me not to ask. Besides, he'd just done the same thing for me at our interrupted date.

Our date. We hadn't finished it. Maybe that could help. Some flirting and my shameless thirst could take his mind off all this, maybe even let his guard down long enough that I could start to get some answers. I took a breath and cautiously started with,

"So what…"

"I don't want to talk about it." He immediately cut over me.

"I wasn't going to ask you," I carefully explained and took a few steps toward the bed. He exhaled, shaking his head,

"Sorry, _Kuklachka._"

"It's fine," I gave him a weak smile as I hung onto one of the rungs of the four poster. "What is something that you've always wanted to try?"

"What do you mean? Try what?" He dropped his arms in his confusion and gave me an intrigued look. A flash of nerves sputtered across my gut. Now hearing it echo back to me that was a pretty suggestive question. I pressed forward,

"Well, I've always wanted to try surfing. I used to watch people do it when I lived in California but I'm not a very strong swimmer."

His confusion turned into a smirk and he looked away for a moment, gathering his thoughts before turning back to me and saying,

"Skydiving."

"Really?" I asked. I took a few more tentative steps along his side of the bed, slowly inching my way toward him, my fingers dragging on the brocading of the gaudy comforter.

"Is this when I'm supposed to ask you to reveal something about yourself that would surprise me?" He pushed himself up to sit straight and ran a hand through his damp hair.

I nodded and leaned against the mattress, using my right hand near his feet to prop myself up and whispered, "my eyes are actually purple not brown."

"I thought we were past all the awkward first date questions." He rose an eyebrow at me and I shook my head,

"Well, it's only our second date so…"

"Second?" He quickly shot out. "When was the first?"

I leaned heavier onto the bedspread so I could rest my head against my fist and gave him a smirk,

"I seem to remember a bar. You bought me shots. You took me home. You kissed me goodnight."

"Among other things," he added his voice dropping a little and the lust swirled again in my belly. The memories of that day started to seep out of their containment but before it could progress from amazing to embarrassing to horrifying I forced myself to push it back down into the box in my chest and keep going. I tugged at the cuff of his pajama pant leg and then pressed my cold thumb around the outside of his ankle, making slow circles. He smiled, relaxing, and leaned back against the headboard.

"Should I go get us a bottle of vodka? Reminisce?" I teased, my thumb warming up with every rotation against his hot skin. He shifted a little on the bed and then held out a hand toward me, palm up. I took it and with a quick tug and lift he'd pulled me up onto the bed, on top of his lap. I could feel the blush ignite across my chest and quickly spread up to my neck at how quickly this had become something overtly sexual. I settled down onto his lap as his hands smoothed over my hips. I let my fingers drag across the band of his pajama pants, watching his chest expand as I licked my lips.

"I'm still mad I can't remember every detail of that." He grumbled, his thumbs rubbing firmly across my hip bones, over and over.

"Why?" I laughed a little and shifted on top of him to get a more comfortable position. He let out a long breath, shifting as well,

"I'd been waiting weeks for that. I stopped smoking for that moment. That's how sure I was of it happening. And now it's fuzzy." He lowly answered and I felt the first throb of lust low in my pelvis. It made me reflexively circle my hips a little in his lap. His hands pinned my hips down and the lust thumped again as I felt him hardening against me.

"We're sober now. I seem to remember you not having a shirt." I slipped my fingers up under his white undershirt, pushing it up his abs. He didn't stop me, and I let my hands run all over the taut muscles hiding under the fabric as I kept inching it up. My hair fell over my shoulder and he released one of my hips to glide his fingers through it up toward the back of my head and pull me to him. Just like that we were kissing, soft at first, tentative and filled with pauses as we felt it out.

He had kissed me on several different occasions over the past few weeks, with various intentions behind each one, but this felt different. This was the culmination of all our false starts, all our constant interruptions, the pooling lust that had to keep being tabled. It felt like the start of something, not picking up where we'd left off. I felt him throb against me again and deepened the kiss, his hands fisted my shirt and the hair at the back of my head at the same moment in response and I melted into him, arms around his neck, with a groan into his mouth. He let go of my shirt and brought the other hand up to my hair, holding me in place as he teased my bottom lip with the tip of his tongue and then sucked it into his mouth, giving me a little bite. It stoked the swirling lust in my center and let out a rolling tingle of desire all down my limbs. I pulled at the back of his shirt and then broke our kiss so I could yank it off him. He helped me throw it to the ground and my fingers slid all over his warm skin as his lips planted kiss after kiss down my neck toward my collarbones. I arched my neck to give him better access, rolling my hips in his lap. He bit down on the delicate skin and a flash of goosebumps raced across the whole right side of my body. He hummed with satisfaction kissing at it and trailing his fingers up and down the reaction before biting down again. This time I felt a pinch of pain and I pulled back a little, annoyed, putting my hands on his chest to make some space. He ground me into his lap again, resetting us as my fingers splayed across his pecs and a raised scar.

That didn't seem right. He didn't have a scar that far down. I pulled back further, putting my hand behind myself and between his legs to try to get a better look. He followed me, one arm sliding along the middle of my back as he brought my chest toward him, his lips running a line of quick kisses across my cleavage. Just as quickly he was leading me down toward the bed, and I was suddenly on my back as he was sliding between my legs and kissing any skin he could find. His hand ran down my jean covered thigh and hooked behind my knee to pull it up and around his waist and then he pressed into me. The weight of him, sliding his desire against my own, and his lips all over my neck and cleavage made everything swell inside me. I'd been waiting so long for this, I didn't even care if it was fast, I just needed him to release all this tension inside me. He had obviously been relieving some of this on his own, but I didn't know exactly how to myself and it was adding to all my moodiness. He was the only person that had ever given me that kind of satisfaction. I needed him.

He pulled at the bottom of my shirt and then pushed it up and over my head, tossing it at the ground and locked his arms to hang above me, eyes detailing my bra and heaving chest. He ducked his head down to kiss at all the blushing and then came back up to smile at me. He pressed his hips into my own and I smiled back and then detailed him myself, the translucent scars snaking up around his shoulders, his strong lean arms, and the quarter-sized raised pink circle with tendrils of translucent white scars snaking out of it in all sorts of directions right above his heart on his left side.

I couldn't stop my pointer finger reaching out to touch it, brushing against the raised scar as I felt my face fall into confusion. He stilled above me, not even breathing, and I looked into his face and stopped breathing as well. He could not mask his panic and I snatched my hand away as I whispered,

"What's that?"

He looked to the left of me, calculating his answer and stalled with, "it's a scar."

"Stellan." I pressed and crossed my arms over my chest suddenly feeling way too exposed and ridiculous laying on this bed with him on top of me. He hung his head, defeated and pulled away from me to sit back in his spot, leaning against the headboard as he sighed,

"It's from the tomb. I tried to," he started to say and I held up a hand, still not looking at him.

He cleared his throat and sighed and the anger boiled through everything. Fast and red hot in my veins, I didn't even know why I was so angry so quickly, my brain had short-circuited somehow. Everything that had been building and swirling inside me washed out immediately to be replaced only with hurt. After everything we'd talked about, everything he'd shared, everything I'd been sharing with him as it broke through all the darkness of my memories. He hadn't told me this? When my whole left arm was one giant, painful scar now? He'd lied to me. I sat up as well, bringing my knees to my chest and making my hair cover as much of me as I could, needing to hide. The hurt kept rippling out from my chest with every breath. I couldn't look at him. But then my brain caught up to my anger and it spewed from my mouth, vindictive and hurtful,

"This is bullshit. I've been awake for weeks! We sleep in the same fucking bed. How could you not tell me this?"

"Calm down," he eyed me, warily.

"Don't tell me to calm down," I growled at him, the anger sparking in my brain, overriding all my usual abilities to calm myself down.

"This isn't you. It's the PCS. They warned me that…" he tried to explain and dropped off as he took me in. He kept very still like I was a lioness that might attack him if he moved.

"Shut up," I commanded and then threw my hands over my face, breathing through them with short quick breaths. He was probably right. This didn't feel normal. But I couldn't stop it. And honestly, that was beside the point. I _was_ pissed off. I let the anger spike through me again and dropped my hands to glare at him.

"You think I know what PCS fucking means?"

"Are you telling me you don't?" His eyes widened with worry. But I would not let him change the subject. Classic Keeper strategy, right? Defuse me by going off topic.

"So which is it?" I snapped, ignoring the question. "You were never going to take your clothes off again or we were only going to fuck in the dark?"

"Avery," he warned.

"Why do you get to hide all your scars and I have to parade mine around like some kind of prize? As if my stupid eyes weren't enough." I barreled onward and let my legs go, sitting up straight on the bed, the anger burning away all my embarrassment.

"Because yours is on your arm and is part of the strategy for our Family." He carefully countered, still touching me with kid gloves.

"Oh, right _our_ Family," I let out a condescending breath. He clenched his jaw. "One of the other things I'm supposed to know about and don't. How many more secrets are you hiding? Have you been fucking some other girl and that's why you won't fuck me?"

"Don't be a bitch." He darkly warned, leveling me with a look of anger he'd only reserved for people trying to kill us. The anger rippled through me and my hands started moving on their own volition, attempting to push his bare chest away from me. As soon as they made contact with his hot skin he ripped them off and held onto my wrists, too tightly. Fear shot through me and the anger died, just as quickly as it had started. I blinked a few times, slumping with fatigue as the adrenaline drained from my blood. My shoulders rolled inward and he let me go with a hard exhale. I wrapped my arms back across my chest and curled into myself. The tears started to pool in my eyes and I looked down at the comforter confused and embarrassed and wanting to leave immediately.

"Avery?" He cautiously asked. I sniffled, a few tears plunking down onto the comforter. He slid toward me and leaned forward to leave a single kiss to my bare shoulder. He pulled back but was still so close I could smell his soap and shampoo. "It's okay."

"What was that?" I thickly managed and wiped at my face. I felt exhausted now, so much adrenaline in and out of my system had everything out of whack, even my damaged heart was working overtime to try and calm down.

"Part of your PCS." He quietly answered. "You're sure you don't remember this debrief?"

"Of course not!" I moaned. "Everything is so fuzzy. I remember you freaking out about stupid shit and Sadist Rebecca and Die Hard. I don't know what's actually wrong with me."

I wiped at my face again with a rough hand, sniffing loudly. I rubbed at the irritated skin on my wrists from his grab. He detailed me, assessing, evaluating, strategizing. It made a bubble of anger break through,

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you can solve this right now." I forced over the thick ball of tears in my throat.

"But it's not you. It's just the brain trauma," he started to say and I put my hands over my face and let out a low growl of desperation. I swiped another round of tears off my face and thickly managed,

"It feels pretty fucking real. This is me now, Stellan. This is the price of surviving what I did."

He paled and exhaled, slumping as he nodded. This time, unlike all the other times today, the silence between us was deafening.

Finally, he broke it with that same soothing tone I'd heard him use so many times before, "okay, Avery. Okay."

He kissed my shoulder again and I forced myself not to pull away. I wanted to hide now. The fact that he had now confirmed that my brain was actually broken was not helping mend the bottomless pit of anxiety that joined the misery party in my chest. Everything I'd yelled at him echoed back through my mind. My anger might have been righteous but it was also destructive. I thought about hiding out in the bathroom until he fell asleep and maybe moving to one of the guest rooms.

"I'm gonna…" I started to say and he shook his head and moved closer, letting his hand cover mine.

"You weren't wrong. I am sorry. I should have told you." He squeezed my hand. "But I hate all my scars. I've had to spend my whole life pretending I didn't to make Anya feel less self-conscious. And now I have one more. I wanted to tell you because you're the only person who knows everything about them. But I didn't want to burden you, I didn't know if it would…" he dropped off.

"Make me go momentarily insane?" I supplied. He let out a single breathy laugh. But neither of us smiled. I finally looked over at him and he squeezed my hand. The worry churned in my stomach. I really hoped I hadn't messed everything up between us. I'd actually accused him of cheating on me. I looked at the scar again, the pink parts looked like they were still healing to that translucent color everything else always did. "Does it hurt?"

"Not always." He looked down at it too. "That's what worries me."

"What does Jack think?" I asked and he leaned forward and dropped his head to my shoulder,

"No one knows but you. It's not their business."

The embarrassment flared again in my chest and I stiffened. He'd been waiting to tell me this because I was the only person he trusted to know, and I'd turned it into an ugly scene. After all he'd done to protect me and my building memories from the tomb I hadn't extended the same favor. I for sure needed to hide for at least another few weeks. I wished the universe would open some kind of portal on the bed and suck me through to another reality. One where I hadn't just railroaded attempts to calm me during some psychotic break and accused my Fiancé of sleeping around after almost a month of unwavering support and patience through my convalescence. Christ, was he even still my Fiancé, had I voided that out now?

"We can work through all this. Let me call your doctor's tomorrow and have them," he started to say and I held up a hand to stop him, closing my eyes in my mortification.

"Please. Just stop." I whispered. He exhaled, hard, attempting to corral his frustration and I opened my eyes to piercing blue and an undeniable resolve etched into his face,

"I would never cheat on you."

"I know." I immediately replied. Because I did. Everything else around us was swimming in uncertainty but if Stellan was anything more than protective it was loyal.

I stood up and bent down to find my t-shirt and put it back on. I adjusted all my clothes and pulled my hair back into a ponytail ready to leave. He immediately stood and moved to me, circling me so I'd have to go around him. I watched as his fingers reached out toward me and then he stopped them, clenching them back into fists and implored,

"Stay."

"I am so confused and embarrassed," I told my feet. "I need some space."

I was so close I heard the noise he made in his throat to swallow whatever he was going to say next. Instead, he turned to his side to allow me to pass. I quickly moved around him and as my hand hit the doorknob he called out to me,

"_Kuklachka_?"

I turned and looked at him, hair dry and disheveled, eyes desperate, pajamas low on his hips and my heart fell and swelled all at the same time. How could he still want to keep working at this? How was he not as mortified as I was? How could I fix this if I could barely look at him again? Why did we keep ending up in situations where nothing ever resolved, it just built? I searched his face for what he was going to say and all I could see was concern. Despite everything, he was still worried about me. The guilt hit hard in my stomach but I managed,

"I'll come back."

"That's all I'll ever ask." He replied and then turned back toward the bed as I left the room.

I was still wiping at tears and sniffling as I shuffled into the guest bedroom. I just needed some space and some time to try and figure this out. I couldn't keep living this half-life. I wanted to go out but I couldn't leave without an entourage. I wanted to help but they would only let me watch Anya. I obviously had far more injuries from the tomb than I'd known about or remembered, but I didn't have the balls to look into it. I needed Stellan, my heart ached for him, but now this rush of mortification tainted it. It was all just so fucking intense. Did it ever stop? Is this what he'd been telling me was so crushingly exhausting about this life?

Flashes of every single envelope gripped in my mother's hands bombarded me. Every state. Every move. Every problem left behind. I would come back like I'd promised him I would, but I needed to leave. I was going to Balmoral. Without him.

* * *

I didn't sleep. I couldn't. This volatile mix of embarrassed, angry and horny made the quiet guest room sound like a jet engine in my brain. It even triggered my tinnitus and I finally just gave up around 4 AM and started Shopkins shopping on my phone for Anya instead. By 5 AM I'd spent way too much money on tiny plates and desserts that had faces. Everything was swimming around me and I was ready to shove some food into my mouth and pass out. I stumbled around the kitchen, settling on a buttered English muffin and a cup of herbal tea when I heard the wing door open. I assumed I was about to run into our still intimidated chief, instead, I almost spilled my tea all over the dining room rug in surprise.

A very sweaty Jack turned equally surprised eyes onto me. His shirt was clinging to every muscle on his chest and I felt instantly uncomfortable. Of course, my scrambled brain blurted,

"I thought you slept in a three-piece suit."

He rolled his eyes, "very funny. Why are you awake?"

"Why does that continue to be such a surprise to everyone?" I grumbled.

"Habit." He shrugged. "Any reason in particular?"

_I'm trying to hide from Stellan_, I thought. Instead, I evaded, "couldn't sleep. You?"

"This is about the only time I can squeeze in a run." He stretched his right arm behind his head as he answered. "Honestly, I'd rather be sleeping."

"No Elodie?" I wondered, taking a careful sip.

"She's not a runner." He grinned. "I need a shower."

He gave me a quick nod as he turned to go. My decision to leave last night pushed past all my sleep deprivation fog and I called out to him,

"Jack wait. I was invited to," I paused, my brain blanking on the name of the castle.

"Balmoral," he supplied. "It's quite an honor."

"Have you ever gone?"

"Never. Guess that says how much the Queen liked you. But not Stellan apparently." He laughed.

"Why did she only give me a hunting license?" I took a big bite of my breakfast and added, with my mouth still full, "I don't have to hunt do I?"

"No," Jack answered, frowning at my lack of manners. I swallowed hard as he continued, "it's a way to make a statement without having to say it. Though I can't remember any past transgressions that would make her want to exclude him."

He brought his shirt up to wipe off his face and seeing all the taught muscle underneath felt so wrong to me I took a gulp of steaming hot tea just so I could look away. It was odd to realize how different our feelings toward each other were now. I'd been listening to girls gossip about what he must have looked like with his shirt off and what they were desperate to do to him back at Lakehaven. Now I wanted him to put more clothes on. On top of all that, his ability to compartmentalize everything that had happened between us so effortlessly was extremely annoying.

"I'd like to go. What should I do?"

"You already did it." He replied and checked his watch, "I'll have Gemma start packing your bags and Roberts secure your transportation. You'll be out of here by 10 AM, so I'd suggest getting ready now."

"It doesn't take me almost five hours to get ready," I scowled at him, affronted. He held a finger up to my disgruntled reaction,

"No. But you'll need a nap. It's a pretty heavy itinerary on the first day and you don't want to be yawning for all of it."

I was about to ask about the itinerary when the door swung open again and everything on me contracted like I'd just absorbed a gut punch. Stellan. Sweaty, flushed Stellan yanking earbuds out as he eyed the two of us.

"Took you long enough!" Jack teased, which Stellan completely ignored. Jack took one look at his frown and immediately turned and left, mumbling, "shower."

We watched him walk away and I forced myself to relax. I didn't trust myself to talk first. The last thing I needed right now was to have my mouth blurt out another embarrassing thing, so I took a second scalding gulp of tea. The silence stretched as he carefully wrapped the cord of his earbuds not making eye contact with me at all. As soon as they were perfectly coiled he pinched the jack in between his pointer and thumb and let the whole thing unravel. Then started slowly wrapping again. It was so unlike him the nerves won out and I couldn't take it,

"You ran with Jack?"

He shrugged, refusing to look at me as he distractedly answered, "I woke up alone."

My fingers burned as I squeezed the teacup in my fist. Of course he did. There was no snuggly distraction this morning. I'd promised him I'd come back, but every time I'd tried to make myself go back to our room it would cause all the embarrassment and indignation to rise, sticking me to the guest bedroom comforter like fly paper.

His earbuds dropped down again, swinging back and forth a few times before he shoved the tangled cord into the pocket of his track pants. With a shake of his shoulders he finally looked up at me and my heart ached in my chest. All his armor was back up. What made it even worse was that I was so used to the real version of him this facade made him look like a stranger to me now. I wanted the soft eyes, searching hands, and perfect smile version of him. Not this patented bored Circle Keeper look that was plastered to his face. My brain screamed at me to say something, do something, fix it. I'd brought this out of him, he had every right to be hurt, but I was paralyzed. He let out an impatient huff and then grumbled,

"I have to get ready."

"Wait," I blurted, swinging my teacup hand toward him, the hot tea splashing all over my skin. "Shit."

"What?" He asked a little too forcefully, his eyes glaring at the red splotches on my hand from my burn.

"I...I," I fumbled, trying to scrap together something. _I'm sorry. We should talk. Don't be mad at me_, I thought. Instead, I set the cup down, grimacing as I wiped my injured hand on my wrinkled date night shirt.

He let out a hard breath and demanded, "you really want to go to this?"

My head shot up in surprise. Had he been eavesdropping on Jack and I? My irritation overrode the distraction of my clumsy burn. I carefully answered, "I want to help our family. This is something Saxon related I can do."

"You're already on the Queen's good side." He crossed his arms over his chest. "The invitation is enough."

"But I can build the relationship and she can help smooth paths for me that being Circle doesn't apply to." I immediately countered.

"It always applies." He said and gave me a withering look. All my weighty depression about how I'd left things last night burned away as the anger started to form around the whole outside of my body like an aurora. I welcomed it, despite knowing it was probably another overreaction from my broken brain. Rather than let it rule me I tried to control it while it was still manageable.

"Fine." I shrugged and threw my last bite of English muffin at the table. "Nothing I do matters then. Why ever have me leave the house? You can just throw money at it or shoot whoever doesn't comply."

"That's not what I meant." He snapped, flexing his arms tighter over his shirt. "And that's not the reason you're going."

"You want the other reason?" I asked, giving him a condescending glare.

"That would be great," he answered, giving me a big, awful, Circle smile.

It absolutely incited me. I lost hold of the tenuous control I'd been able to manage and the unfiltered truth came barreling out of my mouth, "I need _space_ from you. Last night was mortifying and heartbreaking. And I am always being watched. I can't keep living in this fucking fishbowl."

I jabbed my finger at the door behind him and then toward the hallway I was almost positive Jack was now eavesdropping on. Stellan stood there completely composed despite my outburst and drawled,

"Anything else?"

I wanted to stab him. The rage made my arms tense in preparation to strike him and I even started to reach behind my back for where I'd always stashed my weapons before. His eyes widened in concern, and seeing that come from him - of all people - broke the escalation of my reaction just enough to wrestle back control. I pooled all my rage, imagining it as a white-hot ball being held back only by my rib cage. Yelling back at him is what he wanted me to do, to prove his point, to create another example of how I was a loose cannon that had to be controlled. I would not give him the satisfaction. Instead, I put my hand on my hip and replied with as much artificial sweetness as I could,

"Send someone to collect me when the Dauphins are ready to jerk us off."

I stormed past him toward the back of the house and caught sight in the reflection of the glass window exactly what I'd just predicted. Without stopping I barked out my order,

"Jack, push it all up. I'm leaving in an hour."

* * *

"This won't do. It is far too rare. Take them all back immediately." The Queen commanded, waving her hand dismissively toward the server. The poor girl went a deep shade of red as she hastily removed Her Majesty's beef Wellington from the table. A set of hands appeared to my left and gave a whispered apology as the entire table was cleared of the offending main course. My meal had looked just fine, but I'd quickly come to learn my preference was Her Majesty's preference. She never asked me what I wanted, she just served me what she liked. The Queen set all the meals, the wine, and the topics. Thank God the Prime Minister and his wife had finally shown up, I was in desperate need of interference. It would seem the only thing more enjoyable to Her Majesty than ordering people around was prying into them.

Anticipating the ire of an undercooked piece of meat being directed at himself Prime Minister Cameron squeezed his wife's hand on top of the table and she gave a gracious smile toward the scowling Queen as she asked,

"How is Princess Charlotte?"

"Beautiful and much too far away. Though I understand their need to stay in London." The Queen frowned. She took a sip of her wine and I leaned back in my chair relaxing a little. Speaking about her great-grandchildren always pleased her. She began the same story I'd heard on my second day here and I took the time to reflect back on the call I'd received in my room this morning.

Cell reception up here was terrible and I'd been informed that if I wanted to get back in touch with London it would have to be a landline. I was relieved, at first. In the five days I'd been here I'd only received two calls. You never realize how much you're on your phone until you don't need it. The first was from Anya on Monday gushing over the Shopkin delivery. I was so relieved that she still wanted to talk about them with me after our little tiff with each other that I'd let her ramble on for a full hour. The second call was from Jack, this morning, telling me that the car would be there at 9AM tomorrow to take me back to Aberdeen for the flight home. Anya had ripped the phone from his hand and started filling me in on her week without me. Details like when she fell off her horse on Sunday but was fine, how she'd come home from tutoring yesterday to find all her Shopkins in a brand new display case that Gemma had built for her, and how grumpy everyone was.

"Especially Stellan." She'd whispered into the phone. "He misses you."

"You think?" I'd asked, unsure. She'd laughed at me,

"Of course! He asks me all the time what I think you're doing."

Then Jack had taken the phone back and given me a quick goodbye. I'd been filled with a building nervous energy ever since. The truth was I missed him too and I was wondering what he was doing constantly. I kept grabbing my phone to text him things only to see the no signal sign over and over again. I probably should have called, but I didn't even know where to start. Leaving the way I did had been the best thing for my sanity, not necessarily the best thing for my relationship.

"Isn't that right Miss West?" The Prime Minister asked and I snapped back from my thoughts to see their waiting faces. I took a breath to ask him to repeat the question when the Queen reprimanded him,

"It's Korolov. Show the girl some respect if she was resolved enough to marry this young."

_Oh boy_. I thought. _Here we go_. She'd been taking shots at Stellan, and myself by proxy, the entire week. The majority of them coming on my very first day when I'd been forced to stand with the crowd as the hunt started and she'd commented several times about it being such a shame a marksman like Stellan couldn't join the group. I'd, smartly, kept quiet, not taking the bait. I'd still yet to figure out what he'd done to offend her so badly.

"Are you married?" Samantha Cameron asked, her eyes going wide with shock. I reached forward and grabbed my glass of red wine with my left hand, flashing my giant diamond as I nodded and took a sip.

"Russian. Shipping heir is it?" The Queen set her gleaming eyes onto me and I tried to remain calm. I'd watched her do this to every single guest we'd had dinner or tea with over this week. She'd poke at them until she could get a rise. Very quickly it'd become apparent to me that humor was the fastest way to defuse her. I shrugged, attempting to look nonplussed.

"It makes people uncomfortable when I say trained assassin," I answered, giving her my biggest smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw the Cameron's stiffen in surprise, but Her Majesty just gave a quick laugh and nodded at me. I was safe, for now, and the beef Wellington had arrived back at the table just in time.

* * *

I left the Camerons in Her Majesty's capable hands, refusing dessert to go pack my things. With the promise of tea once she was back in London I was formally dismissed and made quick work of moving to my wing of the castle. But I didn't go pack. Instead, I made a beeline out to the gardens despite the chill coming on with the evening. It felt like the normal thing to do. Everything about this trip had been eerily normal. Since we were on 50,000 acres of protected and private land my two security detail, Peter and Niall had basically become invisible to me. I had relished that at first. It allowed me to wander the tartan colored rooms of this place, examine the giant library on my own, marvel at the intricate details of the grand ballroom. I felt like I was back in America, if only in the sense of being trusted to be alone. My mother had granted me that privilege once I'd turned 12. Of course, now I had an idea of where she'd been darting off too, but that autonomy was what had made all my new staff back in London seem so suffocating to me.

The normalcy of this trip was boosted by the Queen herself. After the bulk of the guests had left on Sunday I was worried I'd overstepped my bounds in thinking I was meant to stay for an entire week. But she'd made it clear during our first afternoon tea together that she enjoyed my company and it made the castle feel a little more lively to know someone else was around. So we fell into a bit of a routine. Every day at afternoon tea she'd ask me about my day, if I enjoyed the nature walk, if I'd found the river restorative, what movies I may have seen in the giant basement entertainment room. She was genuinely curious and had a laundry list of topics to pull from to keep the conversation polite and light. But her playful barbs aimed at the rotating list of dinner guests every night was what had settled me most. It reminded me so much of how Mr. Emerson and my mom used to chat at dinner the nostalgia was almost too much to bare at times.

What had been the most fascinating was how easily she could switch between commanding her staff and accommodating her husband, Prince Philip. One minute she'd be ordering the groundskeepers to rip out the violets and plant something more vibrant, and the next she'd quietly ask her husband if he needed anything for his hunt that afternoon. To see someone so commanding also be so accommodating in the next breath was crazy to me. I seemed to be an all or nothing person at the moment. I obviously had a lot to learn.

"Ma'am?" Someone urgently called out behind me and I stopped and looked around. I'd managed to wander to the river's edge and Niall was giving me a concerned look. I took several steps back from the ledge and let out a nervous laugh,

"Sorry, lost in thought."

He nodded and waited until I passed him on my way back toward the castle to start following. There wasn't too much trouble I could get into when the sun didn't go down until 10 PM every night, aimless wandering aside. It was crisp and cool and invigorating. The sprawling fields of grass were emerald, the forests shielding us from the outside world were hunter, the gardens and flower beds were pops of bright orange and yellow against all the grey stone. It was one of the most beautiful places I'd ever been to, and I was bored out of my mind.

Typically speaking, Prince Harry along with Prince William and his family would have been here as well, but the Duke and Duchess were staying in London and Prince Harry had other obligations this week. My dreams of being escorted around an actual castle with an actual Prince had been dashed. So much for every girl's perfect Jane Austen fantasy vacation. I tried to keep myself busy with the laundry list of activities available every day, even going so far as to brave the private off-roading drive by Her Majesty that was surprisingly fun if not slightly terrifying. But this castle was massive and there were days where I was one of the only visitors. It made me feel like a ghost, wandering all the empty rooms.

The only constant guest that wandered these halls with me was the hoard of corgi's that were allowed to just roam free. There were so many I hadn't managed to get an actual count of them. Whenever they'd go barking by it'd remind me of Stellan, and I'd feel instantly lonely again. The anonymity of this trip had been needed. Given the space and the break from everything my life had quickly become I felt like myself again, not the swirling mess of emotions I'd been suffering through. Despite that, I missed everyone and Jack's call had been very relieving. There was a part of me that wondered if I'd even be asked to come back, hence all my worry. Maybe they only needed me for this ball with the Dauphin's, though Anya's enthusiasm made me doubt that. I'd thought coming here would fill me with the release I normally felt whenever my mom and I would flee to the next house. But for the first time in my life I wanted to go _back_ to the place that had been causing me stress. It had taken me a week to realize it, but I wanted to go home.

* * *

"I didn't even have this much to wade through after I woke up from a coma," I grumbled as I continued to dig through my texts and emails. Niall, across the aisle of the private jet, let out a single bubble of laughter. I smirked at his reaction and he hastily recovered with a stiff,

"Sorry, Ma'am."

"The gang has been busy," I continued and dropped my phone into my lap so I could rub both my hands over my face at the same time. _The Gang_ was the nicest thing I could come up with at the moment. They had taken an evening invitation to a ball and turned it into a four-day event.

"Please take your seats and fasten your seatbelts." Came the overhead announcement from the Captain. Peter, Niall and I simultaneously clicked our belts into place as I scrolled through Elodie's list again.

"I mean I expected the Dauphin's to do something douchy like this. Switching the venue from the Louvre to Versailles," I said letting out an exaggerated huff to punctuate my point. "But another dress? A boutique hotel? A private night tour?"

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, all the glass bottles of Pellegrino clinking violently in the bar. I gripped my armrests as my phone slid off my jeans and onto the ground. The cabin remained silent until we smoothed back out and I let out the breath I hadn't known I'd been holding.

"I'm sure you'll be debriefed upon arrival at Riberton," Peter said, adjusting his lapel from being jostled by the turbulence.

"Right," I grumbled and sunk deeper into my leather seat as we hit another jarring bit of turbulence. I watched my phone slide away from me under all the seats and gripped the armrests again. Maybe it was better this way. The longer I'd looked at all the updates the faster the anxiety was growing in my chest. Not just about whatever ridiculous dress Elodie had picked for me or the real reasons we had changed literally every single plan we'd made before I left. The biggest trigger was that the majority of those texts and email confirmations had come from Stellan and they were all business.

I closed my eyes trying to breathe through the continued turbulence as I felt the plane start it's descent. Looking out the window it seemed like we were inside a storm cloud. Which meant it would also be horribly humid and disgusting outside when I landed. I wanted to go back to Scotland.

"We are experiencing some turbulence," the Captain's voice came back over the speakers interrupting my thoughts.

"No shit," I snapped to no one really, but it made me feel better.

"Please remain seated until landing."

We hit another pocket, the plane dropped and then shook so hard I heard glass break in the bar. Lightning struck through the clouds to the left of me and I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. This would be the ultimate irony, wouldn't it? To survive all I had and be taken down by a summer thunderstorm. At least I fulfilled the mandate. At least there were things in play that kept everyone safe if I died. I just wished my final few conversations with Stellan hadn't been accusing him of cheating on me and then telling him I needed countries of space between us. Oh god, I was going to die and he would think I died hating him.

I wanted to unbuckle and scramble for my phone. Text him that I was sorry and that I did love him before this plane went down. But knowing my luck I'd unbuckle and get thrown into a chair and blackout. Right as I reached for the belt the plane smoothed out and I opened my eyes to see ground quickly approaching. Within a minute we touched down and I audibly exhaled,

"Oh thank god!"

"Welcome to Farnborough, everyone." The captain called over the speakers and I leaned forward onto my lap and tried to catch my breath. Next to me Peter and Niall were already up and moving about the cabin. I sat back up and unbuckled as Niall walked toward me, holding out my phone.

"The car to take us back is ahead of schedule," Peter called out to the plane, pulling bags out from the storage. Niall joined him and I looked between the two of them wanting to hug someone, happy I was alive, happy we'd made it through that. But they were already back in business mode.

I quietly gathered my purse instead, putting on my sunglasses so they couldn't see my disappointment, and just in case there were cameras. If they'd sent a town car to get me it meant everyone was too busy to stop. My vacation from this life was officially over. I lifted my giant purse over my shoulder and stood as the cabin pressure popped my ears and the door slowly lowered.

Peter and Niall were in front, carrying both their own duffle bags and my two pieces of matching luggage in each hand. The humidity practically slapped us it was so thick and the frown formed instantly on my face. The two of them descended the stairs and I held onto the guardrail following closely, keeping my eyes on my feet. The last thing I needed to do was fall down and break my face before these upcoming trips to Paris and South Africa.

We hit the tarmac and I looked up to find the town car and instead felt my mouth drop open in shock. Tight black shirt, skinny black jeans, loose black combat boots, reflective aviators, leaning against a fire engine red Ferrari was Stellan. I swung my purse into Niall, hearing him drop the bags in surprise to catch it and ran across the asphalt to launched myself at him.

He let out an umph as he caught me and then started laughing as he squeezed me to his chest. I was making my arms ache I was hugging him so hard and then rested my head against him, hearing the rumble of laughter continue to roll up through his rib cage.

"I wasn't expecting that." He said and then kissed the crown of my head. I loosened my hold a little so I could pull back and look up into his face.

"I'm so sorry," I said, the anxiousness making it all fall out of my mouth quicker than I could stop it. "I missed you so much. We almost died on that plane and all I could think…"

He let go, reached down to push my glasses up into my hair, cupped my face in his hands and pulled me into a kiss. I rose on my tip toes, fisting the thin fabric of his shirt in my hands, as our lips met over and over again, the breath stealing from my chest. Too soon he pulled back and kissed my forehead murmuring just loud enough so I could hear,

"I love you too."

I exhaled and rested my forehead against his pec, refusing to move as the relief washed over me in wave after wave. He slid an arm around my waist as he rose his other hand and called over to Peter and Niall,

"You'll have to take the town car. Should be here any minute now."

They started to protest, their voices still far away, but he didn't say anything else. Instead, he moved us a few steps forward, opened the door for me and ushered me in. As soon as I was seated he hustled around the back of the car and slid in.

The engine purred to life sounding sexy and incredibly dangerous all at the same time. I immediately grabbed my seatbelt and snapped it into place. Behind us, I could still hear Niall and Peter yelling at us and looked back to see them trying to wave us down. Stellan pushed a button on the steering wheel and smiled mischievously. I could hear the car revving and before I could ask why we weren't moving yet we shot off, Niall and Peter jumping backward away from the squealing tires.

"I beat the town car here by twenty minutes," he explained, shifting gears, "no one wanted me to do this."

"Drive this super dangerous car?" I ventured, digging my fingernails into the leather seat as we squealed around a corner.

"It's beautiful, not dangerous," he grinned at me and then squealed around another corner. "They didn't want me to come get you today."

"Oh," I frowned. We had to stop at a light and I watched as everyone in the cars around us and the pedestrians crossing the street snap their heads in our direction. I felt his eyes on me too and looked over, rewarded with the huge smile across his face.

"I told them to fuck off." He said and reached over to grab my right hand. He pulled it to his mouth for a quick kiss and then placed it on the drive shaft, his hand covering my own.

The light turned green, our hands moved to the left and then up, the car slowly purring forward and he leaned toward me and said, "this is only first gear."

My heart lurched into my throat, choking back anything I could have said. He'd remembered. His promise to teach me how to drive in a super expensive, super fast car. The tears tried to overwhelm me and I pushed them back down focusing as our hands started moving again,

"Second gear. You keep moving up the faster you go."

I nodded and he squeezed my hand as we rolled past all the curious eyes.


	13. Chapter 12

Luc looked like he was going to throw up. He rubbed a hand across his clammy forehead again as the five of us made our way up through the media circus the Dauphin's had arranged for our arrival. I slid my hand into Stellan's as we crossed the final few feet toward Mr. and Mrs. Dauphin. The clicks of the cameras were like swarming locust, it was deafening. The shouts in French from all the photographers muted out in my ears and I let Stellan pull me close to his side and gave my no teeth, 'I'm still mourning' smile to the sea of people before we moved just off the red carpet. Now out of earshot but still within photography range we turned and faced off against the Circle Family that had continuously tormented each of us. Minus Luc of course.

I couldn't pinpoint what was making me the angriest. The fact that we were here at all when the entire Circle knew they were allies; the ugly smug looks on their faces as they watched us approach; the nearly palpable anxiety that was radiating off the rest of our group - minus Anya; or that Mr. and Mrs. Dauphin had absolutely ruined Versailles for me. This place was magnificent and now all the opulence and grandeur that surrounded me in the gardens and the golden details catching in the setting sun felt dirty and wrong. This was a bucket list kind of place and they'd taken it from me by throwing this fake summer ball so they could try and fuck with Stellan. I squeezed his fingers so hard from that last thought my own started to go numb.

_Fuck them_. The voice in my head yelled out. For a split second, I was worried I was losing control of my anger. Or worse, potentially losing my mind because the only other time I'd heard a voice was when I'd dropped acid in Ibiza. But it didn't matter - the voice was right. They thought they had the upper hand because they had tortured Elodie and Stellan when they'd basically owned them. But it would be a cold day in hell before I'd let them try and control any of our lives again. Not after everything we'd suffered through.

The last 24 hours had been very rough, for everyone. The closer Stellan and I had sped toward Riberton the quieter he got. When we made our way back to the main house after dropping off the car he'd lit a cigarette. I'd looked at him with wide eyes but he only shrugged and sucked it down to the filter. Elodie hadn't even said a word in English to me as she helped me in and out of the dress she'd had fitted to my measurements in my absence. Jack was always on his phone, barking orders in English and French and pacing - everywhere. And my arm had started throbbing again. All I could think was it was some kind of stress reaction because I felt like I'd walked into a Situation Room. Now as I stood looking the Dauphin's up and down a deep resolve spread through me. They'd stolen all the calm reassurance Scotland had given me by making us come to this ridiculous event. And they weren't even looking at me as their greedy eyes poured over the unease of the group behind me.

Jack and Stellan had both come just short of begging me to let them do the talking for this event, but looking back at my family and feeling all my rage build in my chest I knew that I was going off script. I glanced around at the sea of cameras again and then shook my left hand free of Stellan's ironclad grasp. Resisting the urge to shove my hand directly into his face, I instead daintily held my hand adorned with Stellan's diamond ring, up toward Mr. Dauphin.

"_Enchanté_." I drawled making sure I butchered the accent on purpose. Elodie sucked in a breath behind me, and for a moment everyone stared at my bent wrist, the diamond gleaming from the camera flashes catching off it. There was a murmur from the crowd and I saw the tension build in Mr. Dauphin's face. He couldn't turn me down. Not with so many people watching. Not when this was a French custom. Not when they'd publicly pretended to comply.

The smile built in my chest, the victorious, smug, mean, Circle smile that I'd seen so many times. I felt my mouth widen and my teeth show as it slid across my face. I felt powerful and important and I suddenly realized why every other Circle member I'd met already had this down. You had to really know your worth before you could nail it.

Mr. Dauphin lightly touched my fingers and kissed my ring before hastily dropping my hand, clenching his jaw to keep from saying anything. I tried to pull back on the smile but it only made it grow, the locusts were eating it up, flashes and clicks reaching us from the red carpet. Everyone else was frozen around us, afraid to move, unsure what was going to come next. He cleared his throat and lowly commented,

"Absolute power corrupts absolutely it would seem."

"You would know." I drawled, sliding my hand back into Stellan's. "Kidnapping an unaccompanied minor and throwing her into your secret prison so you could force her to marry your son."

Jack coughed behind me, trying to hide his reaction. Misure Dauphin blazed red immediately. Madam Dauphin rose an eyebrow and I turned toward her next.

"Was there something you wanted to say?" I casually brushed my fingers against my exposed tomb scarring. "Things escalate so quickly at these kinds of events it's hard to stop once you start."

The two of them stiffened, Luc turned a shade of light green. But Mr. Dauphin recovered and directed us toward the antechamber away from the lingering flashes and press.

"I hope our room accommodations have been nostalgic for everyone." He snapped, trying to change the subject.

"Oh, we're not staying at the Louvre." I politely replied. This stopped them in their tracks. Luc put a hand against the wall, bracing himself, and started to wince. "We're at _Le Bristol_. Anya has been dying to see Paris since Stellan always spoke so highly of it to her."

I narrowed my eyes at Mr. Dauphin and then cast a disapproving stare at his wife. There were two beats of silence. My arm absolutely throbbing now and I rubbed at the scaring again. Everyone took notice of this and I latched on to the anxiety and finished with,

"Last chance."

I watched the panic build in their faces, knowing I'd just won. No one understood Stellan's power or how it related to me. Least of all the two of us. All they knew was that they didn't want to be on the receiving end of our wrath. It made sense. We were two fickle Millenials that could decimate them on a whim. I had murdered my brother in cold blood and was holding my wicked sister and _her_ father captive in the basement of their own house. When you put it that way I sounded like a psychopath. I rubbed at my arm a final time and took a breath when Mr. Dauphin ground out,

"I apologize for past transgressions when all of you were in a subservient position of power."

I turned toward Mrs. Dauphin raising a questioning eyebrow. She hissed through her teeth,

"As do I."

I nodded and gave them an open and waiting look. The anger that flashed across his face gave me a fraction of an indication on how terrifying he must be day to day. But that didn't matter anymore, especially now that I was finally starting to understand how powerful we really were. He clenched his jaw and growled,

"We live to serve the 13th Family."

I nodded and gestured toward them, palms up, brightly encouraging,

"Go ahead."

Behind me someone gasped but I didn't break eye contact with Mr. Dauphin. With an infuriated breath, he and his wife rose their palms toward their forehead and gave me a bow. When they straightened back up I was positive Mr. Dauphin was trying to kill me on the spot with his glare. I took a step toward them, Stellan made a noise of warning in his throat, Luc thrust himself off the wall moving toward me, but I cut my eyes to Mrs. Dauphin and quietly told her,

"And as a show of appreciation to your compliance, I'd like you to know this. I haven't forgotten what the Saxons have done to you and your daughter. And I intend to rectify that. Very soon."

She pressed her lips together, her lipstick disappearing with the action, the anger draining from her face and then gave me a deep nod.

"_Je vous remercie_." She lowly replied.

Stellan let go of my hand to press his palm into the small of my back. His fingers wrapped around my hip as he angled me away from the Dauphins, gesturing toward the attendant at the door.

"Hugo," he nodded toward him. "Cecile," he leveled a look at her and then pushed me toward the open doors and down the long mirrored hallway toward the party underway inside the ballroom. I caught a glimpse of myself trying to keep pace with him and was struck by how closely it looked like Cinderella fleeing the ball. Elodie had put me in a giant Zuhair Murad gown with a four-foot train. The fabric was luxurious dark blue satin with hundreds of beaded metallic stars and colorful planets woven into the fabric. If I was being honest it sort of looked like something you'd see at the planetarium - but the dress had pockets! So I'd decided to take the high road, and let it go.

We covered the entry quickly and as he spun me out onto the floor I caught sight of the rest of our group slowly moving into the space, Jack and Elodie were anxiously close to Anya as she looked around, jaw dropped. The Dauphins weren't that far behind, bickering as they slowly moved toward the party underway. We quickly fell into the crush of people waltzing on the dance floor, and I was so caught off guard I found myself being easily led by Stellan, spinning in time with the other couples. I grabbed at my train so no one would trip, but right as I got my wits about me Stellan spun me again and then grabbed my waist and practically drug me off the dance floor and out a side door that was disguised as a mirrored wall. We stumbled through the darkness of a narrow hallway and then he opened a door I hadn't even seen and guided me into a small room.

His hand hit the wall and overhead lights flipped on to reveal a tiny powder room. I had a second to detail the blood red wallpaper and gold filigree on everything before he lifted me off the ground and deposited me on the sink, his lips crashing into mine as the back of my head bumped against the mirror behind me.

For a blissfully long minute, it was nothing but lips and breaths and his hands all over me, all of it heightened because I was unable to touch him myself. I had to grip the sides of the porcelain sink to keep my balance as I attempted to match him, but it was starting to get frantic. The urgency behind all his movement was overriding the pleasure and the pressure that had been building in my arm was about to hit a peak. I pulled away to try and suck in a breath and his fingers gripping my waist set off a little static charge through all the beadwork on my ball gown.

The realization exploded in my brain like a firework. His power, my scar, they were linked. I didn't know how, but the few times now that he'd unexpectedly shocked me had been highly stressful moments. And my arm had not hurt once in Scotland. I had to make him settle. I let go of the sink put both my hands on his chest pushing him away with a rough shove. I slid off the lip of the sink and into the bowl of it, the faucet digging into my back. His lips broke from my own and he took a stumble back against the wall in this closet of a bathroom landing confused eyes on me.

"You have to calm down." I heaved, out of breath from all his frantic kissing. His eyes opened wide with shock but he quickly nodded and took a settling breath. The unbearable pressure in my arm instantly started to release. I had a few seconds to realize what that could mean before he was moving toward me again. He ran his fingers up my arms as he settled between my legs. His eyes raking over me in a way that made me melt and smolder all in the same moment as if he didn't know what to do with me. One arm smoothed around my waist and pulled me toward him, back up onto the edge of the sink. The other started inching up the skirt of my gown and I let out a long breath trying to calm my hammering heart. He'd misunderstood me, but there was no way in hell I was going to stop him.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my shoulder, slowly working up and murmured against my skin,

"_Je te veux tellement_."

He sucked on the delicate skin of my neck and a wave of goosebumps raced over me as my arms snapped around his torso. I clung onto him instead of the sink, his palm finally made contact with my knee under all the layers of my dress. He slid it quickly up my thigh, and I couldn't help the breathy exhale of,

"Oh god."

He pressed his lips to right behind my ear and whispered,

"_Ne te moque pas de moi._"

His palm squeezed my inner thigh, fingers teasing their way to the edge of my panties and the lust ballooned in my chest desperate to break free from the weeks of containment. My heart was hammering against my ribs I was so worked up now. Everything he was whispering seemed so hot like he was saying filthy things to me. It was all so perfectly, agonizingly, slow. I was about to beg him to switch to English when his fingers slid under my panties, the tips of his fingers stroking and circling, aided by the slickness of my own desire. He let out a hum of satisfaction, and kissed the next phrase into my neck,

"_Allez... Laisse-moi goûter_."

A quiet, breathy, moan escaped and I shuddered with want as his fingers pressed inside me. My world started to zero to just that part of my body. He leaned me back toward the mirror, his fingers sliding further in, and my eyes rolled shut. He moved them, gently and slowly, in and out a few times and I could feel it already start to form in the center of my chest.

"_Maintenant tu vas jouir pour moi._"

I just started nodding, past words, past thinking, past anything but our panting and his filthy French in this tiny bathroom inside Versailles. And then there was a knock on the door.

"I know you're in here. It's the best bathroom to sneak off to." Luc's voice teased from the hallway.

Stellan put his forehead onto my chest and sighed, pulling his fingers back a little, when I grabbed his wrist and hissed at him,

"Don't you fucking dare."

"_Mon dieu, tu es crasseux_," he whispered back, pumping his fingers in and out with precision now. My climax was still building despite the interruption and I squirmed on the basin, arching my back to aid his efforts. His lips dragged down all my exposed chest in this dress as the metal on his cufflinks made soft clinks every time they hit the sink with his movements. His fingers brushed against something inside me and I slapped my palm over my mouth to stop from letting out a moan. Maybe if we were quiet Luc would just leave.

"_Merde_, Avery," Stellan quietly swore but made sure his fingers brushed that same spot over and over again, the two of us staring into each other's wide, dilated eyes as I felt the climax build with the blush now climbing up toward my cheeks. So close. I was getting so close. I tried to arch more, move in some way that could unlock all this frantic, caged, sexual frustration. My effort only made my dress start to fall onto his arm and my shoes attempt to slip off. I scrunched my toes to try and keep them on, making every muscle on my body squeeze with the effort, including the ones around his fingers. We both whispered at the same time,

"Shit."

"I don't think I've ever seen my father that shade of red. He started chewing his blood pressure medication like it was candy. He still hasn't calmed down." Luc said immediately after hearing our swearing, and then I heard him fall against the door as if he was getting comfortable. I wanted to fucking scream. Stellan hadn't stopped but I could already feel all the tingling magic start to ebb from my body.

"And Maman!" Luc continued, his voice a mix of awe and surprise, "completely shaken. I think they both assumed you were just going to stand there and look pretty."

Stellan stopped, putting his forehead right onto my exposed sternum, our quick breaths synchronized. I didn't know what to do. I needed to come, it wasn't even a want anymore. But there was no way I could with Luc on the other side of the door. I had to make him leave, but how? I really didn't trust my mouth to say something diplomatic. Especially with Stellan's fingers still inside me and his lips trailing across my feverish skin.

"Luc," I tried, my voice sounding much deeper than I would have liked.

"Avery," he eagerly replied.

"Leave. Or I'll make Stellan stab you." I yelled toward him. There was a shuffle at the door as Luc gasped out,

"You wouldn't!"

Stellan kissed my collarbone, laughing audibly this time, and shifted his weight, still unable to move his hand with my death grip on his wrist. I rolled my eyes and started loudly,

"3...2…"

I heard footsteps and then we both looked at the crack under the door to see if he was still there. But it seemed like the coast was finally clear. He turned back, smiling, and looked me up and down.

"Where were we," he grinned and I felt his fingers start their pattern again - but it was gone. That magical, mythical, spot inside me wasn't there and my frustration started to override all my desire. My brain kicked back on, warning me that if Luc had found us it was only a matter of time before Jack and Elodie did. This wasn't going to work. I wanted to simultaneously kick something, scream and weep. Instead, I let out a quick huff and let him go. Stellan immediately started pulling his hand back.

"Or not?" He questioned, fingers slipping all the way out.

"It's not...it just…" I struggled to say through the caldera of emotions bubbling in my throat.

"It's okay," he pacified, "it happens."

"But I needed that," I growled, feeling my eyes prickle with the start of tears.

"As did I _petite traînée_." He teased and then, to my absolute astonishment, took his two, still slick, fingers and stuck them in his mouth. I was so in awe and strangely turned on by this, that all I could do was stare as he sucked them clean.

Finished, he took a few steps back and offered me a hand off the sink. I almost didn't take it. I was still in shock. Plus, I hadn't scared Luc off to go back to a party I wanted to leave. Let alone talk to a bunch of people I didn't like when I was bright red and nearly undone. But in my moment of hesitation, he slid his palm around my waist and lifted me off the sink. When I made a noise of annoyance he tucked me closer to his side and lowly said toward my ear,

"The things I'm going to do to you."

A full body shiver raced down my back as I exhaled a surprised, "oh."

He let go only so he could run his fingers down my exposed spine and raise goosebumps across my skin. Then grabbed my hand and lead me back down the hall, grinning as he said,

"Let's make sure the Dauphin's haven't kidnapped the rest of our family and get the fuck out of here."

* * *

Anya's unparalleled excitement about being in Paris ensured that I barely saw Stellan for the next couple of days. Her adorable, but constant, need for his attention had slammed me right back into the friend-zone with him and the quick handhold or forehead kiss was all he was willing to release. It didn't help that she was practically sleeping at the foot of our bed. She stayed up much too late and rose way too early. She had become his shadow, and there was no way I was going to try and interfere with that. France would always be something sacredly special to just them, it would have been unflatteringly selfish to demand attention for myself. Plus, her bouncing joy was making him smile so much all I wanted to do was watch them.

It was better this way. I hadn't been able to shake my terrible mood since Versailles. No one but Luc had noticed us ditch the party we'd just arrived to. And with his parent's detained at their end of Summer ball, he gave the group of us a private, night tour of the Louvre. Even that hadn't been able to buoy me back to normal. Seeing everyone so happy had made this weight of sadness settle in my chest and tendril it's way into every thought. So I'd stumbled through every tourist trap, every store and every landmark with a marked detachment. I'd check my phone to make it seem like something important, but really I just didn't want anyone to ask what was wrong. The answer hurt too much. I wanted my Mom here with me. I wanted to show off my friends, have her witness a happy Stellan in action, see me happy. I wanted her to be proud of how far I'd come since the first time I was here. But then I'd look at giggling Anya and shove it all back down into my chest. I didn't want to be the storm cloud that rained on their perfect Paris day.

By the third, and mercifully final, day as I was waiting against a wall outside a line of shops in Montmartre, Elodie slid up next to me and lit a cigarette. I swatted at her plume and she settled in glancing toward the shop,

"It's sickeningly cute, _oui._"

"What?" I coughed. She let out another plume as she answered,

"Anya and Stellan. She's just too excited about all this."

"It's her first time in Paris. I think we should allow it." I leaned away a little and adjusted my sunglasses on my face. I'd been wearing them half to avoid paparazzi and half so they didn't see my sadness.

"So the _enchantment_ is gone for you as well?" Elodie asked taking another long drag.

"I have mixed feelings about this city," I admitted. Stellan and Anya emerged from the store and she immediately jogged off to the next one. He glanced over at us and we both waved at him simultaneously. Jack quickly scanned all the other spots we had stationed security for this shopping trip, then caught up with Anya. The three of them moved into the next shop.

"I don't ever want to come back here again." Elodie broke the silence. "I do love France. But I like my new home much better."

She looked over at me, eyes hidden behind her own sunglasses, and quirked the side of her mouth up with a hint of a smile. I smiled back and leaned into her side in our version of a hug. There was a beat of silence and then Elodie took a final drag and ground out her cigarette against the stone wall, flicking it to the ground. She cleared her throat and I stilled next to her, whatever she was going to say wouldn't be good.

"Since we are here, did you want to go visit your m…"

"No." I cut over her firmly and resolutely. I didn't even want her to finish the thought in her head. Tears welled in my eyes and I held my breath trying to stem them. I pulled out my phone shutting down the conversation and trying to distract myself. Elodie lit another cigarette and with a sniffle, I wiped at the single tear that had managed to slip past my sunglasses. She took a long drag as I tried to push all my bubbling emotions back down. Anger that she brought up my Mom in the first place, grief and guilt that I would probably never want to see her grave, but most surprisingly appreciation that she'd thought of it in the first place. No one else had bothered to ask.

"Avery," Anya yelled as she burst through the store's door. "You have to come see this!"

"Duty calls," I lowly said to Elodie. She gave me a deep nod as Anya covered the space between us with her jumping, excited, run and then drug me into the store. Stellan took one look at me and pulled me to his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head, refusing to let me go, as we slowly followed Anya's knickknack tour around the latest tourist trap. He was as ready as I was to head back to London.

* * *

"Ouch!" I yelped again and shied away from the hands of the seamstress. Elodie loudly turned a page in her glossy magazine and drawled,

"If you could keep some weight on we wouldn't have to keep altering your dresses."

I glared at her, but she didn't look up. I knew she wouldn't. She and this seamstress had been taking jabs at me for over an hour now. Because, of course, I needed another ball gown for another Circle event we had to go to.

We'd been altering this dress in the massive changing room antechamber to our walk-in closets. Elodie had immediately taken up residence on the overstuffed padded bench in the center as I'd been forced to stand under the bright hot vanity lights. I'd been ensured it was necessary, but now I was starting to question this whole arrangement.

"It seems excessive to keep making all these new gowns," I complained and shifted on my tired feet. I couldn't help it anymore. I was cranky.

"That's the point, Avery." Elodie drew my name out, her tone barely masking the condescension. The seamstress made me do another quarter turn to now face the door that led out to the bedroom. Elodie flipped another page, loudly. I took in a breath trying to settle when, to my relief, Stellan appeared, silently, before me. No one had noticed him but me. His eyes took in Elodie still flipping pages, the seamstress on her knees folding and pinning away, and finally to me. I mouthed the words, _Help me!_

He nodded, winked at me, and barked out, "this was supposed to be done a half hour ago!"

The box of pins clattered to the ground and Elodie startled, throwing a hand out, her stack of magazines sliding all over the bench. She squared her shoulders, glared at my victorious smile and then rose an eyebrow at Stellan who had moved into the space as she said,

"I suppose we could stop."

She gave a direction in French to the seamstress and the woman stopped picking up the pins and unlaced the back of my dress. Stellan and Elodie launched into a verbal sparring match in French as the seamstress led me to my side of the walk-in and closed the door. She helped me step out of all her handy work, I changed as quickly as I could and thanked her. I threw open the door to see Stellan shake his head at Elodie's wide-eyed look of mock innocence.

"Come with me." He held out his hand, and I grabbed it and yanked him with me as fast as I could.

At first, we just moved away from the room, stumbling down the hall and out of the private wing with a playful urgency. But as we stood, looking out at the rest of the house we never used I had no idea where to go. All I knew was that I had him alone for a moment and I needed him to keep touching me.

I'd been trying, very hard, to mask all my spooling lust. Our interrupted fondling in the Versailles powder room had unleashed a lust monster inside my body. Every thought I had was somehow equated back to sex. No matter what I tried in the shower or alone in the bed some mornings, it never relieved it. The worst part was that I knew he wanted more too. I woke up wrapped around him every morning, both of us pretending we didn't notice what was obviously between us until he'd roll off into the bathroom. The house might be expensive, but the insulation between the walls was cheap. I heard him, I was thirsty, and my patience was starting to run thin.

"I have an idea." He finally said, breaking my silent musing and started pulling me down the hall after him. We weaved through room after room of this mansion. He opened doors I didn't know we had, led me through rooms they hadn't shown me on the tour until we were finally in an unassuming hallway. He let go of my hand, grinning, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

"Very impressive." I glanced up and down the empty space.

He pushed on one of the panels in the wall and it slowly slide open to reveal the grand ballroom. Sliding into the darkness I could hear him pounding on the wall and moved toward him. With a final hit, the spotlights on the stage and the center of the dance floor flooded on. I jogged to the shining circle of light, my steps echoing into the massive space. The rest of the room was still in shadows, chairs stacked, tables pushed to the far walls. Stellan moved toward another panel and pushed, to reveal a utility closet. He ducked in and reemerged with a soccer ball. I let out a laugh of surprise as he shut the door. He tossed the ball back and forth between his hands and then dropped it to the ground, kicking it toward me.

"You don't have to play, you just looked so pathetic, thought I'd help you escape." He smirked.

"I can play." I stopped the ball with my foot. I couldn't play. I wasn't allowed to play sports growing up - too much of a commitment. But I had watched plenty of soccer and from what I remembered it was a contact sport. Contact sport meant touching.

"Team sports were not part of your dossier." He teased, taking a few more steps toward me. I cocked my head to the side and gave him a warning look, kicking the ball back,

"You'll have to debrief me on what's in that file one of these days."

He shook his head, stopped the ball and then kicked it up into the air with a twist of his feet. He bounced it on his knee a few times before dropping it back to the ground. I couldn't hide my shock, "I thought you were horrible at soccer."

He winced at the word and frowned at me, kicking the ball up again and letting it fall back down. I shook my head, I'm wasn't going to correct myself. He passed the ball back to me, shrugging,

"I wasn't horrible, but I was never going to be good enough to play professionally. So I stopped. I had a better aptitude for languages."

"You think?" I laughed and kicked the ball back, a little too hard. He blocked it with the side of his foot, the ball bounced up into the air and he caught it with one of his hands.

"Jack and I used to play footie in here when we were younger." He pointed to the far wall where the lights were illuminating the stage, "that's one of the goals."

"So am I goalie?" I glanced at it. He closed the space between us and pressed two fingers to the pulse at my neck. I immediately stepped out of his touch. No matter how far away I got from my hospitalization he kept treating me like walking too fast was going to make my heart explode. Of course, this was only when he wasn't treating me like his platonic friend. His schedule had become so erratic over the past couple of days I had no idea when he was going to take off again, I had to keep his attention. I buried the anger and moved toward the goal.

"Sometimes you look like you know everything," I said over my shoulder. He smiled a real smile, the one where only a small flash of teeth showed. I continued, "and sometimes you look at me like you don't know what to do with me."

He licked his lips and locked eyes with me, the blue darkening, "that's because I don't."

"See I think that's a lie," I tossed out as I slid up onto the stage. He rose an eyebrow and dribbled the ball toward me.

"How so?" He challenged. With a final kick the ball thudded into the stage and stopped as he stood before me, his attention unwavering, and I felt adored and nervous all in the same moment. I took in a small breath to settle myself, everything heating in my blood as he shifted even closer.

"You've always known exactly where to touch me." I licked my lips trying to physically stop my smirk. "To calm me down of course."

"Oh," he nodded and then held out his hands for a moment, showing them off to me, his ring still seeming out of place despite all the time that had passed, before putting them on my knees and slowly running them up along the top of my jean covered thighs. "Like this?"

"Sort of." I teased. He took a step closer, moving his palms toward my inner thighs and slowly separating them as he slid into the space between. I put my hands behind myself and leaned back as his own kept moving, circling my waist, sliding under my shirt, and smoothing down to cup my hips.

"Or is this better?" He lowly asked. I locked my legs behind his own and looked into his face, shaking my head. Making a small noise of contemplation he closed the space between us and my eyes fluttered closed as his lips touched my own. It was soft and slow at first, gentle presses that teased me into chasing his mouth, pulling back just enough to force me to sit up again. His hands slid up toward the lace of my bra, fingers toying with the edge and I reached forward and grabbed onto the belt on his dress slacks. The kiss immediately deepened then. Both of us parting our lips, pressing harder and longer. I let the tip of my tongue test a small line against his bottom lip and he pressed me to his chest, my arms slid around to his back, then I abandoned that and moved my hands toward his hair. I wanted to touch everything, his fingers were working my bra off, our tongues met and his hips automatically bumped into the stage, aided by my locked legs dragging him closer to me. My breaths started to shorten in my chest, I melted into him as I dug my fingers into his hair and let myself get lost in the moment.

He broke off, his lips racing down my jaw, a little bite to my earlobe, quick drag of teeth at my neck, and I swear he licked my collarbone before sucking the delicate skin into his mouth. I couldn't stop the little moan that came out with that motion and he stopped and pulled back. Nuzzling his nose into my neck he whispered against all my feverish skin,

"Feeling calm?"

I laughed and he released me, untangling us from each other with a few gentle movements and squeezing my knee as he pulled away. He rolled the ball under his foot taking a step back, eyes zeroing in on all his handiwork. I knew I must be bright red, he did this to me every time. I almost growled in frustration.

I didn't know how much longer I could hold out for him, not when he was driving me insane with the flirting. He checked his watch and I felt the brush off form. The way he'd switch off the person I needed him to be and became the person he thought he should be was building. I could not let this happen. Not after a day of meetings and Elodie berating me in French for two hours while some lady stuck me with pins. Not after weeks of teasing. I needed some kind of release. I needed him to make me forget about all this - if only for a couple minutes. I had to get his attention back.

"You're not as slick as you think you know."

"What are you talking about?" He scrunched his eyebrows warily. I leaned forward and pulled at the lowest button on his shirt, untucking it as I pulled him toward me. He let out a huff of annoyance but complied and once he was back between my legs I leaned forward and whispered in his ear,

"I can hear you in the shower."

"Avery," he pulled back, shocked. I shrugged.

"Seems like such a waste."

He laughed, leaning into me and I could see the blush rising on his neck, past the stiff blue collar of his dress shirt. A spike of thrill went through me and I was suddenly awash in this intense feeling of ownership. I wrapped my arms around him, trying to keep him close to me, to feel his heat, his heart, the solid build beneath all the formal attire. Because that person was mine. I knew it with every breath in my lungs. No matter how many other versions we would have to be to everyone else in the world - who he was right now belonged only to me. And I wanted all of it. He couldn't hold back anymore.

He pressed into me, his laugh ebbing and then planted a long kiss to my neck before pulling back, flushed and smiling before leveling me with that very same 'I don't know what to do with you' look.

"There it is." I laughed and pointed to his face. "You know I could _tell_ you what to do with me if you'd give me a chance."

His eyes went darker, pupils dilating and the words echoed back in my mind. The double meaning making me flush as well. He ran the tips of his fingers across my collarbones, smiling at the flushing,

"Believe me, I want to."

"Well, let's do this sooner rather than later, there is an almost electric energy around you at all times. You're practically buzzing with untapped power." I laughed.

He didn't. His face fell, he took a step back, pulled his hands away, and tucked them across his chest. The words hung between us and suddenly all the pulsing kinetic lust was sucked down into my individual sinkhole of horror. How could I have said that to him? I tried to apologize but it stuck in my throat, coming out as a strangled noise. He put his hands over his face and took another step back, away from me. After a moment of silence, he rubbed at his stubble and then dropped his hands, suddenly looking exhausted and conflicted.

"I suppose I do these days." He quietly said.

"Stellan, I didn't mean," I started to say but he shook his head, looked at his watch, and then dribbled the ball between his feet a few times before kicking it with a hard thud across the ballroom. It slammed into a stack of chairs making a metallic scraping sound as they shifted. I swallowed hard, my arm throbbed, I looked up at him again and all my lust and misery twisted in my stomach with regret. I shouldn't have said that, but it shouldn't be something so taboo between us. We had to talk about this at some point.

He watched the ball bounce a few times and then pulled at his shirt sleeves, tucked his shirt back in, and turned toward the door, gesturing for me to go first, keeping a marked distance between us. My skin was still tingling from all the flirting, it was a heartbreaking contrast. It rose to the surface, fast and unstoppable, and broke across my tongue,

"Are we ever going to talk about why my arm feels like it's going to explode when you're pissed?"

"What?" His intense eyes shot to my scarring.

"I can feel it. In the puncture wound part of my scarring." I held my arm out and pointed toward it. "I know when you're mad at me."

"I'm never mad at you." He immediately said. It was so intense I couldn't tell if he meant I'd never pissed him off - which was a lie - or he was trying to convince himself that wasn't the reason this kept happening - which was also a lie.

"Fine." I conceded, trying to keep this conversation going. "Then when you're upset."

"That's impossible." He looked away from me, back out toward the dark ballroom, his shoulders tensing. I wanted to laugh. Everything about the two of us was impossible. I shouldn't have purple eyes. He shouldn't be fireproof. Why was the idea that his emotions tapped into some supernatural power unbelievable?

"I thought it was just healing. But my PT is over and it's still happening." I stated, matter of factly. Then rubbed my arm again. "Sometimes it's just for a couple minutes, sometimes it's for days. It's this constant, aching, burning pressure."

He took a few more steps away from me, running a hand through his hair, fixing everything I'd mussed out of place, as he let out a long breath. It sounded so close despite this giant, empty, room. As if all his anxiety and secrets were filling the space, pushing all the oxygen out. My arm started to ache and I rubbed at it again before sliding off the stage. He turned around at the sound of my shoes, eyeing me carefully as I moved toward him. I slumped, defeated. I'd managed to sabotage myself again. I crossed my arms over my chest,

"We don't have to talk about it now."

He nodded and closed the space between us sliding his hand along the small of my back, making a few quick circles with his thumb. I didn't know if he was doing it to reassure me or himself, but he did it all the way back to our wing, silently.

* * *

His hands floated around me now. He didn't touch me anymore. His left palm had hung inches away from my lower back as he'd escorted me into Scotland Yard for the 'stress test' questioning. He'd quickly tucked his hands away after pulling out a chair for me at the Red Cross benefit gala. Even during dinner at home, when I'd attempted to purposefully grab the salt shaker at the same time, he'd dropped it with a crash to avoid me. No back circles, no forehead kisses, no hair touches, just phantom hands and my heavy heart.

Those were only the times we were forced to be together. Everything else was conveyed in simply worded texts or calendar updates. The only old constant was that he still made it home every night. Most of the time I was half asleep when he slid into bed but it was relieving to know that despite everything else he kept coming back - like we'd promised each other. I knew he thought he was doing a good job of manipulating everything to hide what he really wanted, but his subconscious was making him a liar. As soon as he'd finally pass out every night his sleeping brain would pull me to him, wrapping me up tightly, and run his hands all over me. It was the reason I was so sleep deprived this week, the only time I could get his physical attention was when he was sleeping. Seemed like a fair trade considering the daytime alternative.

By Friday when the notification popped up on my phone of a meeting with the notary later that evening, I'd wandered into the kitchen and made myself a pot of coffee. My theory was that it would wake me up, instead, it'd just made my hands shake and my heart pound. That's when I'd remembered my dietary restrictions post...death. One cup of coffee a day unless I wanted to see if that body bag still fit. I'd tried to hide it from Jack and Stellan, but their Keeper conditioning had picked it up immediately. It would appear none of my theories or ideas were going to go my way this week. So I'd spent the past half hour stewing in a toxic mix of indignation and hand cramps.

I looked across Stellan's giant oak desk at the notary again as he passed a stack of papers in my direction. He was an older man, hair salt and pepper, clean shaven and in a crisp pressed three-piece suit. A proper English gentleman, despite the devious work he was doing.

"This one is backdated for the paternity test we performed and your consent to it." He gave me a genial smile and gestured toward the flagged tag on the paper. I signed and turned it over, he cleared his throat,

"This one is the acknowledgment of the results. And then your acknowledgment of being added to the will of Alistar Saxon - also backdated."

I swallowed hard, signing. The notary pulled the papers toward himself and then stamped them loudly on the desk. I could feel Stellan and Jack's eyes on me but I just pretended to read the next stack of paper.

"Now we have acknowledgment and acceptance of your inheritance." His finger pointed to the line I had to sign.

I signed and the notary snatched the paper away busying himself with organizing the piles. I whispered to Jack. "How much longer did you say this was going to take?"

The next sheet was slid first to myself to sign, then passed to Stellan before I had a chance to look at it. The notary flicked it back slamming his stamp down, the extra pens on the desk rolling a bit. Flipping it over he placed the next grouping for us to complete. I rolled my wrist, snaps and pops releasing some pressure as we both moved onto the next one in autopilot. Signing and looking up at Jack for an answer he shrugged, apologetically,

"Not much longer."

"What were those?" Stellan pushed them toward the notary. He looked up, confused for a moment. We'd obviously stopped his rhythm, but then nodded and answered,

"Oh, marriage license. Then change of name for Miss West and power of attorney to you Mr. Korolov." He grabbed the papers in front of us and merrily slammed his stamp down again. "Congratulations."

The pen dropped from my hand and I leaned back in my seat. Stellan leaned forward onto the desk his head in his heads and Jack put up a hand toward the notary. He quickly ushered him out of the room saying we needed a moment. We needed more than a moment. So that was it? That's how easy it was? How insignificant? Like signing your receipt at the market. Stellan and I were still shell-shocked when Jack reappeared clearing his throat and palming his compass tattoo as he cautiously started,

"You said you wanted to erase their name. Everything has been willed to you but Stellan can't touch it unless you're married. And as the...soon to be...sole living Saxon the name change was ceremonial for the Circle. You've erased them now."

I put my shaking hands over my face and tried to breathe. Not only had I erased any trace of Saxon to the Circle. Not only was I now legally married at 17. But now I was also legally a Korolov. And Jack - of all people - had been our witness.

"You could have given us some warning," Stellan snapped. I dropped my hands to see Jack cross his arms over his chest.

"This was always part of the plan. It's part of the mandate! You have to be married. You both care for each other - I don't understand why you look so shocked."

"How could we not be?" He turned toward him, my arm starting to throb a little. "You did this on purpose when I asked you specifically..."

"You know that's not," Jack started, his voice tight, and I cut over them.

"It's done." They both deflated, looking away from me. "Just go grab him and let's keep going."

Jack nodded curtly and moved back toward the door. Stellan leaned toward me,

"_Kuklachka_ I know this wasn't what you wanted. I'm sorry."

I was surprised he knew. Despite saying I'd marry him in France, and accepting his rings in front of everyone in Egypt - I didn't really want to marry him. At least not right now, when everything was still in flux and intimidating and exhausting. But I'd never breathed a word about that resolve to anyone. My heart ached in my chest to realize he still knew me better than I knew myself - in spite of everything. And yet I still knew nothing about him, let alone the reason my arm was starting to pinch painfully the longer I held the silence between us.

"It's okay." I looked down at my rings and then touched my throbbing arm. This was more than being tricked into legally marrying him. How much more was going to be taken away from me? How much more of this life I had fought and died to have was going to be dictated by someone else? How could I possibly be running the Circle and still be completely controlled by it? I looked up to see Stellan's intense glare trying to look through my clothes at exactly where my scar was. When I caught him looking he straightened and turned back toward the desk. The door swung open,

"Only a few more to go," the notary brightly said as he sat sliding another stack of paperwork toward us. "None of these need to be backdated. Let's start with your trusts."

Stellan clenched his fists, I rubbed at my throbbing arm, and then we both picked up our pens and started to sign.


	14. Chapter 13

Stellan was outright avoiding me. If I was being honest I was strategically planning my days to miss him as well. We had started ghosting each other. Moving meetings, events, and meals to purposefully avoid the other. Whenever we did accidentally cross paths in the hallways my chest would tighten and I'd press my fingers into the prongs of my ring. Husband. My actual husband. It still didn't seem real.

What made it worse was that I didn't have a single soul to bounce all this off. Was I overreacting? Was I not mad enough? Should I be trying harder to jump the growing void between us now? Should I really feel this uncomfortable with a piece of paper? This was still the same man that had picked pieces of glass from my feet and slept sitting up in my hospital room for a month straight. There was no one in this world more devoted to me than him, and wasn't that what marriage was? Love and devotion? I wouldn't know, I didn't have a single real-world example to reference. And the only person who could have weighed in on this for me continued to be out of cell phone range whenever I'd try to reach her in Africa.

But there was no avoiding me tonight. As the only 'living' Saxon I had taken on Lydia's socialite responsibilities as well. At least the ones for charitable organizations. Despite my deep suspicion of being forced to go to another summer ball event, his phantom hands had escorted me down the paparazzi line this evening. It was for the Arts Council England, at some giant warehouse, apparently, it was the new chic thing to do. It was being hosted by some super famous socialite I'd never heard of before. Supposedly she was Danish royalty. Luckily, I just had to show up as this was a 100% Saxon event.

I wandered around another huge art installation, yanking my obnoxious dress back down. Elodie was apparently far too busy to attend with us. That hadn't stopped her from putting me in a Julien Macdonald dress that looked like the sun was exploding from the right side of my body. It was made from intricate and overlapping gold metallic fabrics and threading. With an asymmetrical skirt on the left slide sliding down to just above my ankle in cream-colored charmeuse and the other side hitting right where the bottom of my underwear would have been on my hip. Again with all the nakedness! But at least my entire left arm was covered in the silky fabric the rest of the gown was in.

Jack had explained in the limo over that this gala was showcasing very abstract art that was supposed to be a commentary on humanity's inhumanity. I'd felt my eyes bug out a bit at that concept. Stellan had just kept looking at his phone. In fact, all he did was look at his phone when he didn't have to smile at the cameras with me. Which was why I'd ditched him a few installations back and was now staring at tables with real blades of grass coming out of them.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" An older woman in a tight black shift dress and a severe silver bun asked me. She took a sip of her dark red wine as she eyed it pensively again.

"Very," I carefully answered and then gave a quiet, "excuse me."

The last thing I needed was to prove to everyone why I shouldn't be here. I looked around the bizarre art and groupings of people drinking wine in couture for somewhere to sit out of eyesight. I made my way past chairs trapped in concrete and a dress encased in concrete behind glass until I found a little dark alcove that had a single white chair. It was probably meant for a security guard, but it was quiet and hidden and perfect. I sat down as carefully as I could, exposing my entire right leg in the process, my aching feet screaming with relief from my sky high metallic gold heels. For a split second, I panicked wondering if I was accidentally sitting on art - it was so hard to tell - but I doubted it, the chair wasn't trapped in concrete right? I laughed to myself.

Despite mentally giving Stellan shit for doing it all night I pulled out my phone from my clutch and looked at my calendar. We had South Africa coming up fast and I hadn't forgotten Colette's suggestion of inviting Michiyo over for tea. I needed some help with planning this. But if I left to find Jack, people would gawk at me again, or worse - ask me about the art. I could practically hear Elodie's hissing voice chastising me about needing to mingle at things like this. But if it wasn't important enough for her to show up, let alone Stellan to pay attention, I didn't feel I needed to put in much more effort than what I already had. So I opted for the next best opinion, I texted Luc.

_Can I ask you a question and you won't make fun of me?_

_I make no guarantees _

_Never mind. _

_Please! I live to serve the 13th Family. _

_Ugh. Forget it. Now I'm embarrassed. _

I went to lock my phone when I saw his text bubble pop up again immediately. Instead, I reached down and pulled off my left shoe, sighing in relief.

_Embarrassed?! _

_People are STILL gossiping about this. _

_Some people are saying you spit in my father's face. _

_God that's worse. _

_Enjoy it. It's not every day someone bests Hugo Dauphin_

_...Or has sex in Versailles. _

I audibly gasped at his text, catching the attention of few passing patrons. They gave me a disapproving glance as they moved on. I awkwardly shifted my chair further into the alcove and ripped off my other shoe, tossing it toward its fallen comrade. Glaring at the text again I took an indignant huff. The nerve of him. It certainly wasn't from a lack of trying. He's the one that had snuck up on us.

_LUC! I'm deleting your number. _

_Okay! Okay! I'm sorry. You know I love to tease you. _

I knew I should have just figured this out on my own. But I needed to make sure one thing was very clear!

_I did not have sex in Versailles. _

_Sure you didn't... _

_How do you think he knew exactly where to go? _

_Goodbye forever. _

I actually hadn't thought of that. Lovely. Now I felt cheap as well as mortified - and still horny. I locked my phone and let my head fall back against the wall. It kept buzzing in my hand and I looked down to see my lock screen fill with incoming texts,

_Avery!_

_Come on!_

_You know I'm joking!_

_Please don't be mad!_

Then another one from Stellan,

_Where are you?_

I unlocked my phone, seeing Luc's next plea pop up immediately,

_Avery! What is your question?_

_Colette suggested I invite Michiyo Mikado for tea. _

_To help her out with her...problem. _

_Very diplomatic. _

_Quite the statement actually. _

_I know. So...how do I do that? _

_Do you all have some secret contact group I have to download? _

_This is actually a tough question. _

_Because you don't want anyone to have your number. _

_You're too important. _

_I am?_

_So pure. _

He'd added on a halo emoji after it. I was still pissed at him so I sent a couple fire ones and a devil one and then an angry one. He responded with an eye-rolling gif and I looked out toward the party again. I still didn't see Jack or Stellan anywhere. Almost all the guests were clearing out of this part of the exhibit. I pulled my chair away from the wall a little so I could tip back in it, putting my bare right foot on the opposite wall to balance myself as my phone exploded with a series of texts from Luc.

_YOU. _

_ARE. _

_A. _

_QUEEN. _

_You are ruling the Circle. _

_People contact YOU. Not the other way around. _

_This isn't helping. Now I'm panicking. _

_Have Gemma do it. _

_She can set it up at Riberton for this upcoming Friday. _

_Why Friday?_

_She'll already be in town for your debut Circle meeting on Thursday. _

_What debut Circle meeting?_

_Oh. Ah. _

I squeezed the phone in my hand, my anger flaring. That wasn't on the calendar. And even if we'd been avoiding each other he'd been very good about including me in everything I needed to know. So why had he left this one out?

The room cleared and I glared at the stacks of men's shirts on the ground, perfectly folded and propped against metal rods. Fuck this art. Fuck this place. And fuck Stellan! I started to push off the wall to stand up and grab a cab ride home - just to mess with him. But he appeared at the entrance at the same moment Jack appeared at the exit to this room. Their dress shoes clicked across the concrete as they scanned the space looking for me. I glanced down at my phone for Luc's final text,

_Please don't maim him!_

I refused to move. Great Keepers they were. They'd lost me at a closed event and didn't realize I was gone until the party started to dwindle. Maybe if I was silent they'd panic and search the whole place and I could ditch them and go have a pint or something in this stupid dress. Isn't that what Londoners did? Drink heavily? I'd have to develop a taste for warm, dark beer.

"_Kuklachka_?" Stellan asked the room, eyeing Jack.

He shrugged in response and moved back through the exit, leaving the room, "Avery?"

Stellan turned his back as if he was going to leave as well, and I realized a second too late what he'd done. My phone buzzed in my hand and his head whipped around at the noise. He started to make his way over and I glanced down at my phone to see,

_Gotcha!_

I locked the screen again as he leaned against one side of the small, dim alcove. I scowled up at him, ready to say something prickly when the look on his face stopped me cold. He was trying to devour me with his eyes. They roamed up and down my fully exposed leg as he bit the side of his lip. His ogling was so unfiltered that I could practically feel his lips sliding up all my smooth skin.

"Are you trying to kill me?" His whisper bounced around the alcove, wrapping around me as if he'd said it right into my ear. Despite being completely thrown by his reaction after almost a week of being ignored I held onto my annoyance with him.

I rose an eyebrow and drawled, "depends."

"Fuck you're gorgeous." He growled and adjusted the lapel on his tux. I leaned back against the wall again, feeling the muscles flex in my thigh as I balanced myself. His eyes poured over me as he slid his hand down the front of his tightening pants. This was taking a surprising turn of events.

Figuring out what turned him on continued to be a complicated puzzle for me. I couldn't tell if it was my leg, being in public, being snarky or all three that were causing the current escalation. I felt a surge of power, buoyed up by my lingering anger at being cut out yet again on a Circle event. I shrugged and took a stab at bitchy being the reason, lowly replying,

"You like me better when I'm mean to you."

His eyes widened with surprise and he licked his lips, moved the final few steps to close the space between us and horsley asked,

"You want to be mean to me?"

He rubbed himself again, the fingers on his other hand fidgeting at his side, and looked like he was about to hit his knees in front of me. The lust burst from my core, spreading out in a wake that I was sure made my skin flush, though you couldn't really see it in this darkness. I had flashes of him fucking me against the curved walls of this alcove, but I forced them out. What the fuck was going on? What exactly had changed in the two hours we'd been here to make him want me again? Or had he never stopped wanting me? It was maddening and infuriating and incredibly sexy. But my anger won out.

Because if I gave in and played this little game with him he wouldn't know I was angry. And honestly, how easy did he think I was? Luc's Versailles remark flickered in my mind again. Did he think that one minute of attention, after a week of purposefully avoiding me, was going to erase all the hurt he's caused? I let my chair drop back down to the ground and crooked my pointer finger in a 'come here' motion. His eyes snapped around the area looking for any witnesses, and then he slowly lowered himself down to a crouched position so he was eye level with me. I leaned toward him and whispered,

"You're an asshole."

"What?" He murmured, pulling back to give me a playful but confused smile. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at him. All the friskiness drained from his face and he abruptly stood up as we both heard Jack's quick steps toward us. Stellan leaned against the wall quickly sliding into one of his Keeper conditioned bored expressions and Jack gave me an exasperated glare.

"There you are."

"You're an asshole too." I cracked back in response.

Jack gave Stellan a bewildered look but he just shook his head and looked down at his shoes. Jack spread his legs wider apart and filled the opening of the alcove, then crossed his arms to match my own stance,

"Enlighten me. How am I the asshole when we were looking for you?"

"When were the two of you going to tell me about my debut Circle meeting on Thursday? Or was that another thing I'm not important enough to know about? Even though I'm ruling the fucking Circle!" I said, giving him a dirty look.

"Keep your voice down," Jack snapped and then looked over his shoulder at the still empty exhibit. "Who told you?"

I was starting to respect him a little more, he was not backing down from my bitchy mood at all. Stellan, on the other hand, was still silently examining his shoes.

"Luc," I flashed my phone at him. "It shouldn't have been him."

"He beat us by 30 seconds," Stellan finally retorted rolling his eyes. "You would have seen it too if you were checking your email instead of gossiping with Luc."

"We've been stalling for months for you. You really should be more grateful. They put him through the gauntlet on the last one because you weren't there." Jack chastised me, jabbing his thumb toward Stellan who looked back down at his shoes again.

That day jumped to the forefront of my spotty memory - finding him alone on the couch, him nuzzling my shoulder like a kitten and then promptly falling asleep on me. When you considered since that day we'd had the fake funeral, the job interview with the Queen of England, the 'stress test', the Dauphin's surprise party, my psychotic break and my field trip to Balmoral it made sense that they'd been stalling. I quickly unlocked my phone and opened my email to see the urgent message from Elodie right on top. I locked it again and let out a long sigh. Fine, I had overreacted. But that couldn't have been the only reason they were searching for me tonight.

"Alright," I huffed. "But what's the real reason you two were casing this place. It can't be good if you were trying to double-team me."

"Christ," Jack coughed and turned bright red, turning away from me, his shoulders bouncing with unshed laughter. That was weird. I looked over at Stellan who was also bright red as he cautiously smiled at me and quietly said,

"Phrasing, _lyubov' moya_."

I slapped my hands to my face, mortified. The tension between the three of us instantly evaporated as Stellan started to quietly laugh as well. Why did I continue to set myself up to be the butt of every joke?

"Let's get out of here," I groaned from behind my hands and stood, throwing my phone into my clutch. I pushed past both of them, my battered feet welcoming all the cool concrete. I could hear their dress shoes behind me but continued to just power forward. When we reached the main hall where everyone was grabbing last call or coats Jack shot ahead of us, flagging down the valet while simultaneously texting someone. I had a sinking feeling it was Elodie. To my utmost surprise, Stellan leaned toward me a little, almost to the point of touching.

"Why are you suddenly shorter?" He asked. I kicked my right leg out in front of us to showcase that I'd abandoned my shoes then crossed my arms over my chest. He inched closer to quietly ask, "are you still mad at me?"

I shrugged. It wasn't that I was mad, I was lonely and jilted and unfulfilled. I continued to exist in this half-life for every facet of my life. Jack waved us over and we made our way past all the curious eyes toward the limo. Stellan helped me with my dress as I slid in first and then turned to Jack and said,

"Sit up front."

"What?" Jack asked, surprised. I leaned across the seat to get a look at the two of them, Jack's suspicion and Stellan's resolve.

"Do I need to make it an order? I was trying to be nice." Stellan grabbed the door and started to close it as he stepped into the limo. Jack nodded and without another word turned and moved toward the passenger side. I scrambled to the other side of the seats as Stellan slid in and slammed the door. The limo started moving instantly and he turned to me, pausing for a moment to take a breath and compose his thoughts before he looked directly at me and said,

"I'm sorry."

"About what?" I cautiously asked, tucking further into the corner of the car.

"The way I've been treating you since the notary." He answered, pressing his lips together in a tight line. My brain instantly decoded it - since I became your husband. Out of habit I grabbed my left hand and pressed my thumb as hard as I could into the prongs holding the diamond. His eyes darted to the motion and he spun the ring on his left finger.

I didn't know what to say, because there was no way in hell I was going to tell him it was fine. I decided to be honest,

"It's weird, right?"

"Very," he exhaled with relief, looking back up into my eyes. "I don't remember my parents ever being this awkward."

"I wouldn't know," I quietly replied.

The street lamps illuminated the inside of the silent car, highlighting his pensive face in a blinking pattern for a solid minute when I gave up waiting and turned toward the window. I heard the leather creak as he slid toward me but I continued to take in the smearing lights of London through the dark tint. The fact that he didn't have something in response to say to that had clammed me back up. We probably should be talking about this, but I didn't have the nerve for it.

"What did you think it would be like?" He cautiously asked. The answers lurched in my chest, trying to break free - _once I'd graduated from college, when I'd been living on my own for years, dress shopping with endless mimosas, wearing my mother's turquoise hair clip, my mother crying as she waved goodbye to me. _The tears tried to break through and I forced them back down with a hard swallow and thickly answered,

"You won't talk about your hands. I'm not going to talk about this."

I heard the leather creak again as he stiffened next to me then sighed miserably. I sniffled and glanced over my shoulder at him. He was visibly upset and as his black bowtie moved up and down with his slow swallow my heart broke a little in my chest.

I didn't mean to wound him, honestly, I hadn't really thought I could. But maybe all this space had been a necessary evil for him. Maybe he had thousands of things he wanted to say that kept sticking in his throat as well. We'd come here as the most visible and social versions of ourselves we had to be. But he was the one that had made Jack give us a very private and safe space to talk. He had been brave enough to get us here. I needed to be brave enough to jump the void back to something closer to normal.

I turned away from the window and scooted next to him, my thigh flush against his own and then reached over and grabbed his left hand with my left, bringing it up to my lips to leave a faint pink kiss on top. I looked up at him in the darkness of the car and firmly said,

"I want you. I choose you. It's everything else that's hard."

He nodded, but his jaw was still clenched tight. I leaned against his shoulder and pulled our entwined hands into my lap. He was quiet for so long after that the sound of his breaths and the hum of the tires under us started to lull me to sleep. Right as I felt myself drifting off he shifted slightly and I felt his warm lips on the crown of my head. I smiled and turned to kiss his jacket and then settled more into his side and quickly fell asleep.

* * *

The red door to my office flung open and I jumped back from the desk in surprise.

"You!" Elodie scowled at me, pointing at me and then - to my astonishment - drug Stellan in behind her with a rough tug to his black t-shirt.

"I didn't do it!" I immediately replied raising my hands up like she was a cop.

"You think I wouldn't find out?" She continued, giving him another rough tug inside so she could slam the door shut. She poked a finger into his chest and then swung it back out at me, demanding in French, "_dis-lui._"

All the sculptures on the shelving behind me were still rattling and I gave a worried glance at them before raising an eyebrow at Stellan in question. He rolled his eyes and started,

"There was an article this morning…"

"The Heedless Heiress!" Elodie cut over him jabbing her finger toward me.

"You're not making sense," I carefully answered, my hands still slightly raised.

"And you keep throwing away 800 euro pairs of shoes!"

I felt myself grimace as I asked, "is that a lot?"

"You stupid American!" She absolutely steamed and stalked toward the desk. I startled away, my chair slamming into the shelving as I stood and backed up a few steps. Stellan grabbed her arms and pulled her back,

"El, calm down."

"You know how hard I worked to cultivate your social image and you're derailing it because you can't keep shoes on your feet you…" she started to snarl at me and Stellan slapped a hand over her mouth. I was like a deer trapped in headlights watching this unfold, my hands still raised, my mouth dropping open. Elodie wanted to kill me because of some shoes?

"Be very careful about the next words that come out of your mouth," Stellan warned her, his voice taking on an edge of anger that I wasn't expecting. Elodie froze all her struggling against his restraint and gave me a final glare before nodding. He removed his hand.

"I'm calm." She snapped and shook off his hands. She reached into her back pocket and took a few steps toward me. I was half expecting to see a gun, but instead, it was her phone, and more accurately the headline followed by a picture of Stellan holding the door open for me as I slid into the limo. Barefoot.

_The Heedless Heiress Strikes Again!_

She locked it and took a deep breath before forcing out in a flat, clipped, tone,

"Could you please keep shoes on your feet when you leave this house? You hillbilly."

"Elodie," Stellan snapped. But I wasn't scared of her. Actually, I thought it was pretty hilarious. She was ready to lunge across a desk at me because of shoes? I relaxed, dropping my hands as I said,

"Technically you lost the first pair when you forced me to walk too fast through the British Museum. It was a safety reason."

"And last night?" She growled.

"They hurt my feet," I shrugged. She sucked in a furious breath, her nostrils flaring as she tried to burn me alive with her glare. "I thought the whole point was to showcase how rich I am, Elodie." I drug out her name, just like she'd done when she'd tortured me during my dress fitting.

"_Merde_," Stellan sighed and dropped his head back to look up at the map on the ceiling.

"The point," she slammed her hand down on my desk, "was to trick everyone into thinking you knew what you were doing. Not make an easy correlation to your evil sister!"

"She is not my sister." I fumed at her, putting my hands on the desk as well.

"Can we," Stellan started to say and we both turned toward him and yelled,

"Shut up!"

He threw his hands above his head and immediately left the room. With him gone it seemed a lot more dangerous and for a beat we stared at each other not knowing the next thing to say. Or maybe we'd said it all now. I wasn't sure. I normally didn't get this far in a girl fight. Typically we'd have to go back to class, or I'd move. Elodie let out a long breath and then straightened, crossing her arms over her chest as she judged the state of my desk and the haphazard bun I'd done with a couple pens I'd found in a drawer.

"What the hell are you doing anyway?"

"Studying." I snapped and pulled my chair back toward the desk. My eyes ran over all the open journals and the book of mandates alongside my notebook and blue pen.

"Are these Alistar Saxon's?" She asked, leaning forward to fiddle with the journals, flipping a few pages in her examination.

"Yes," I huffed, sitting back down and rolling myself into place. "I haven't been to one of these and Jack and Stellan haven't been very helpful in telling me what to expect."

"That's because they'd never been to one. Until Prague." She answered, still reading the journals upside down.

"Really? Why couldn't they have just said that?" I said, shaking my head in exasperation.

"It would bruise their already delicate egos." She retorted.

I let out a little laugh as I picked my pen back up, "that's for sure."

Elodie appraised me for a moment, this look of cautious realization forming on her face. It made me nervous. She leaned onto the desk, closing more of the books as she said, "Hugo Dauphin and Alistar Saxon are two of the only Family heads that attend every monthly Circle meeting."

I pressed my pen onto my notebook and met her eyes, "they're the only two that show up?"

"No," she rose an eyebrow, "everyone else just sends their wives or daughters."

"Because they're too busy?" I asked, but I already knew that wasn't the reason. This was the Circle after all, everything they did was for nefarious reasons.

"Because they're trusted enough to inform but not actually rule their Families," Elodie answered.

"That's fucking stupid," I told the page, pressing the pen harder into the paper.

Elodie rose a single shoulder and examined her nails as she clarified, "it's been done this way for centuries."

"Well, it won't be anymore." I clarified. "Not when Lydia murdered half the male heirs and the mandate validated that I was powerful enough to rule."

Elodie smiled at me, a real smile, and I looked down, embarrassed by her praise. I'd made a blue ink pool accidentally. I tossed my pen at the desk and rolled back, looking at decades of notes and centuries of mandates that had led to Stellan and I. That had led to this moment where we'd both appear before the Circle not just as equals but as rulers. It reminded me of the Queen of England and how she'd treated all the powerful people that had come to have tea or dinner with her in Balmoral. She was always professional but it had been made abundantly clear that she was making all the rules and if you didn't like it that was too damn bad.

"I've been putting together a study packet for you. For the Circle meeting on Thursday." Elodie carefully said, stacking all the journals as if to say I didn't need them anymore.

"I hope by study packet you mean 'Elodie's Guide to Emasculating the Patriarchy'."

"Where have you been all my life?" She grinned at me and I let out a big laugh.

"I don't think I'll be making a lot of friends on Thursday." I smiled. Elodie let out a long hum of satisfaction and as if reading my mind said,

"Queens don't have friends. They have subjects."

* * *

"Remember your hands," Elodie whispered to me.

I nodded, "and my shoulders, I know."

"And make sure you hold eye contact until they break first." She added, flipping her phone over and over through her nervous fingers.

"I know, I know," I reassured her and looked across to the opposite bench in our speeding town car at Jack and Stellan who were watching us with huge, worried eyes. They were out of the loop on this one and for a very important reason - they couldn't step out of Keeper mode in front of the Circle. Elodie had witnessed this at the very first meeting. We couldn't afford to have it happen again. She'd made it crystal clear to Stellan that this time he needed to keep his 'pretty mouth' shut and let his wife, Queen of the 13th Family, and Taker of Zero Shit From the Circle surprise the fuck out of all these assholes. The car slowed to a stop and Elodie made this tiny noise of panic, so low I almost didn't catch it.

"Your," she started to say and I put my hand over her fretting ones, squeezing them until she exhaled an, "okay."

The door opened next to me, letting in a blast of the mid-day sun. I slid on my sunglasses and carefully took the hand offered to exit the car. Looking up at Tower 42 I started the mental checklist Elodie had been burning into my brain for days. Step one - create a neutral playing field.

City Social Restaurant, located on the 24th floor of the prestigious Tower 42 in London had a Michelin-starred restaurant and a total seating capacity of 22. I was told there were breathtaking views of 30 St Mary Axe, The Shard and 20 Fenchurch from every seat in the place but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that no one had claim to this building, a crucial part of step one. This was a historic shift from how all previous Circle meetings had been held.

We quickly moved through the lobby of the building, my heels clicking loudly against the marble with Stellan to my immediate left and Jack and Elodie inches behind me. The attendant held open the elevator for us, asking for the floor as we settled in.

"The 24th," I answered.

"You're quite late for the party." He offered, conversationally, as the elevator speed toward our floor. Without even looking over at him I smirked and drawled,

"I know."

Step two - establish dominance before you even arrive. We were 45 minutes late to this on purpose - no one could come in after us. We'd bought out the restaurant, even going so far as to relieve all regular staff so we'd be alone. Then we'd strategically placed our own Saxon guards, even a double agent Order plant, to sweep the place for bugs and ensure all Circle Family's were accounted for before we made our entrance.

I looked at the group of us in the metallic reflection of the doors as we slowed to a stop. Jack and Elodie were in their usual black uniforms of a suit and a shift dress. Stellan was looking particularly dangerous in an all black, three-piece suit, unbuttoned, with no tie. But I, on the other hand, was practically oozing sex in my ensemble. Their first impression of me was a very important part of step two.

Elodie and I had meticulously designed my signature look for all Circle meetings going forward. I was young, nubile and deadly and they needed to be reminded of that. Constantly. Which was why my onyx colored tuxedo pants were skin tight, and my matching, professionally tailored, three quarter sleeve blazer had the top button undone. It showcased the blood red bralet just barely poking out that perfectly matched the bottoms of my five-inch black velvet stilettos. The red was meant to subconsciously put them on edge. To remind them that even a drop of our blood could kill them all.

The doors dinged open and I gave the attendant a sly smile as we silently made our way out and toward the noise growing in the restaurant before us. Jack held open the door and without even pausing I strode right in. Past the welcome from our plant at the bar, past the long table we'd asked them to set up instead of booths, past all the snapping heads in their small, uncomfortable chairs, until I stood at the head of the table and carefully handed off my sunglasses to a waiting Elodie. I surveyed the group, doing a mental count to ensure every Family was there and internally smiling at how we'd forced the table flush against the wall so no one could sit at the other head.

City Social was beautifully modern. With black enamel surfaces and supple black leather seating, the strategically placed splashes of color gave it a posh and sophisticated tone. I looked toward the floor to ceiling windows to my left and through the sea of unfamiliar faces caught Hugo Dauphin giving me a piercing glare. I ignored it and reached down to pick up the reserved sign on the seat on my right and handed that off to Elodie as well. Only then did I finally sit in my high backed, padded, throne reminiscent chair. I glanced over at Stellan, settling into his similar seat and he gave me a nod. Our waiter poured ice water into my square cup and I folded my hands over my square plate, another subconscious jab at everyone here. There were no visible circles anywhere in this room, I continued to wait until the chatter stopped.

Step three - enforce your authority. There would be no apology for our tardiness, nor was I going to tolerate anyone questioning it. Elodie warned me there would be someone who would. As if on cue an older man, a Hersh I thought, glanced at his watch and jokingly asked the long table,

"Did you have somewhere more important to be?"

There were a few chuckles as everyone attempted to get comfortable in their tiny seats. I squared my shoulders and evenly and clearly replied,

"I did."

He opened his mouth a few times, unable to come up with something to say. Now was the moment to strike. Apparently, there had always been a fair amount of bullshitting and small talk made at the start of these things. Not anymore. Elodie had us on a tight 20-minute door to door agenda. I took the opening and launched right into my first point of order,

"We will be changing this to a quarterly meeting going forward. Please ensure the heads of your Family's understand they must be in physical attendance. We'll consider it an act of rebellion against our rule should they send a surrogate."

The table immediately broke into hissing reactions and creaks of their chairs as they shifted around. I waited for them to quiet down before continuing,

"If they can't be bothered to take a few hours out of their year to come to this, then I can't be bothered to assist them. That time is over. The world is changing. We are changing with it."

I took a sip of water, purposefully grabbing it with my left hand and relishing the lovely clinking sound the ice made in the silence my first order had created. Time for step four - dominate unrepentantly. I daintily dried my fingers on the starched white napkin and then continued.

"Due to the inheritance vacuum created by the Saxon's reign of terror we are mandating that the succession of rule in each Family shall now go to the oldest living heir, regardless of gender. There are no exceptions."

Quite a few people gasped, mostly the daughters, but I had been expecting that. To give them a moment to process this before moving forward I held out my hand and Elodie quickly placed my phone in it. I scrolled blindly through my emails until the room died down again and spoke over the few remaining whispers,

"Which brings me to my next order. Due to the shift in power, there will be no more arranged marriages." A hum of rising noise filled the room as everyone at the long table started making comments about this. I rose my voice to carry over them, "a marriage must be agreed upon by both parties without coercion. To marry outside the Circle will not be frowned upon. To marry outside the biblical sense of marriage will also not be frowned upon. This is at the discretion of the Family but should be vetted through our blessing. We understand the predicament this might put some Family's in and are prepared to start negotiations with them about their concessions."

Quite a few women at the table immediately started typing things into their phones, audibly making comments to their neighbors. I held my phone back out for Elodie to grab it and sensed both her and Jack move closer to the back of my chair. This was supposed to be the end of it. They had all agreed that three commands were enough for our first run when we'd finally given Jack and Stellan the list of mandates for this meeting. There was sure to be blowback and turmoil from what we were proposing, and it was going to be a logistical nightmare for some Family's to comply with this.

But I wasn't done. Every night when Elodie would finally allow me to leave our War Room training sessions I'd been building, revising, and memorizing the final mandate I was about to slam down on this group. I took a breath to ready myself and felt my arm instantly flare with pain. I didn't look at Stellan, I was afraid I'd lose my nerve, especially when he could read me so easily he knew something was already up. I focused on the pain to steady my nerves and held up my palm again, knowing I'd never get complete silence I said over the dwindling grumbles,

"Finally, enslavement of children into the Keeper program will be shut down immediately."

I even heard Jack react to this one behind me. My arm was absolutely throbbing now and I used it to fuel the threatening tone I knew had to come with this. I took a deep breath I spoke over them all again,

"All remaining trainee's and charges will be given the choice," I paused and glared at the table, "to stay on for Keeper training or move on to another position within a Family that is needed. Procurement of Keepers will be left to incentivized offers to agencies or organizations that lend to that skill set."

"But what about the Order?" Mr. Dauphin shouted above the noise. All eyes snapped to him and he gave me a condescending glare. But I had been preparing for this, especially from him considering just how much my appearance had disrupted all his Circle domination plans.

"The Order wasn't killing your children. Lydia Saxon was." I slowly answered, forcing myself not to get too worked up.

"You expect us to start bidding wars to protect our Family's?" He continued, trying to incite the table. There were nods and grumbles and all eyes turned back to me.

"I expect you to stop committing inhumane child labor atrocities to provide yourself with bodyguards." I cracked back, my final word scathing and coming out so forcefully my whole body moved.

I glared at him and the room went absolutely silent. I couldn't even see Stellan breathing in my peripheral. If I hadn't seen it myself I wouldn't have believed it, but Hugo Dauphin gave me a slight nod and settled back in his chair. The silence continued to hold and the first inkling of celebration started to rise through the perfectly controlled persona I'd had to create to do this. But then Daniel Meleck rose from the table and nearly shouted at me,

"What gives you the right to come in here after centuries of procedure and decorum and demand this with such blatant disregard for our entire history?"

All eyes snapped back to me, but Elodie and I had anticipated this. Never breaking eye contact, never letting my face move, not even taking in a breath I let the silence spread out in the wake of his question. The unease of it started to become another entity in the space. If I had done this not even a few months ago I would have snapped first. But this was so important, too important to fuck up. So I waited. And just like Elodie said would happen a female voice near the end of the table let out an exasperated breath and scolded,

"The damn mandate Daniel. You were going to divorce your wife and leave your children to marry her!"

He sat back down, and I continued to glare at him until he finally looked away. I stood and the room devolved into chaos. People were openly shouting at each other and pointing, everyone was on their phones and I pushed back from the table holding my hand out for Elodie to give me my sunglasses back. I slid them on and said over the madness, though I doubted anyone cared,

"That will be all. We have the restaurant for the remaining 10 minutes."

I turned to Stellan who rose, offered his arm and escorted us out with a closely following Jack and Elodie. I was glad the tint was so dark on my sunglasses because I was eyeballing all the astonished faces watching us leave this building disaster. And I almost broke character as Michiyo Mikado's grin spread quickly across her face as she followed our exit.

Our Order plant had already called up the elevator, so we stepped right on, silently. Descended all 24 floors, silently. Strode purposefully back out to our double parked town car, piled in, and all looked at each other for a beat as it pulled out into traffic. And then Jack and Elodie dove across the aisle to pile on top of me. Elodie shoved Stellan out of the way, forcing him into the door. Jack hugged me so hard it knocked my sunglasses off. They were both laughing and praising me as we all rolled into Stellan when the car took a corner.

"Alright, off of her," Stellan commanded pushing against our pile. Jack and Elodie begrudgingly moved back to opposite us, and I even put a seat between us. But Stellan snaked his arm around my waist and practically pulled me onto his lap with one strong tug. One of my legs fell across him in the jostling and he ran a quick palm down to my ankle and then squeezed me to his side as he rained down kisses into my hair.

"That was absolutely brilliant, Avery." Jack beamed at me.

"Perfect. She was perfect." Elodie agreed nodding and grinning.

I gave them both a tentative smile, but the truth was I couldn't speak. I was so worked up everything felt like it was short circuiting in my body. My heart was slamming against my ribs, I could barely complete a thought, every muscle was tensed and ready to run. I pulled my hands out in front of myself only to see that they were shaking. I took a stuttering breath and Stellan grabbed them both into one of his hands and brought them to his mouth, kissing them over and over again.

He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I'm so proud of you."

I nodded again and tried to keep up as they started noting small things I'd missed due to the extreme focus I had to have. Names I didn't recognize, inside jokes I didn't get, phrases in French that made them all laugh. My hands just kept shaking, but Stellan didn't let go.

As we pulled up to Riberton they were making plans about what to do for lunch, everyone celebratory and starving in the beautiful afterglow of our victory. I wanted to feel like they did. It's one of the only wins I'd had in a very long time. I wanted to yell and hug everyone and cry and laugh but I couldn't. I had to just keep pretending, smiling and nodding. Hoping that something could break through this abnormal reaction making my chest tight for the rest of the afternoon.


	15. Chapter 14

"I apologize," Michiyo gave me another reluctant frown as her phone vibrated all the china on our table.

"Please don't stop on my account." I gave her a bright smile and took a sip of herbal tea, trying to defuse the tension. It was almost 6 PM in Tokyo, despite being brunch in London, and her phone had been buzzing non-stop between our fruit and scones. She let out another sigh, picking up her phone as she said,

"You're about the only person I would ignore all this for. But it has been very tense since your decrees yesterday."

I looked back down at the table, picking out all the strawberries from my plate, as she made her replies. That was an understatement. My phone had not stopped dinging the rest of the day and into the night. Luc had started a group text with the four of us where he continued this almost stream of conscious update of his own thoughts, mixed with actual intel of everything he was hearing through his own channels. I finally had to just silence the chain, watching the number of unattended texts grow every time I glanced at my phone.

She placed her phone on the cushion between us on the sofa this time and took a long sip of tea, gently setting it back down on the saucer, relaxing her shoulders and resetting herself with a smile,

"As I was saying, all negotiations have broken down now that I'm next in line. It's inadvisable to have the convergence of two heads. And," she paused and ran a hand over the swell of her belly, "I also have another choice now."

I nodded, forcing myself to stay quiet. All of Elodie's War Room grilling had conditioned me now to wait for someone else to say the first thing in contentious situations. My original invitation to her hadn't been in a 'royal' capacity, but after yesterday that was impossible now. We'd moved this meeting to her boutique hotel room, so she could avoid the press, but I had felt even more eyes than usual watching me enter the building. Stellan had insisted on security despite the relaxed atmosphere so Jack was in the hallway with Michiyo's detail, to at least give us the illusion of privacy.

"I never thought it would have been possible," she quietly continued, looking down at her hand across the bump in her dress. "I'm still not sure it can be."

"Not even a year ago none of you knew I existed." I offered. Her head snapped up, eyes startled by my honesty and I continued, "just because it's never been done doesn't mean it shouldn't."

She nodded, turning her attention to her few remaining bites of scone and I felt my phone buzz in my purse next to me. I wondered what that could possibly be about, but I wasn't going to look. Then it kept buzzing, multiple times, and I slammed my hand down on it, trying to soften the noise.

"My father was furious for so long. Insistent that I handle the...mistake. When I refused he started threatening to Terminate Stephen. We were going to resolve it all after meeting with you in Venice." Michiyo said leaning heavily into the hunter green fabric. She adjusted a pillow behind her back and then let out a long sigh, her hand absently stroking her stomach again. I was glad my hands were still pressing into my purse because I could feel them shake a little. We all knew what happened in Venice. I still saw the blood soaking into my dress when I closed my eyes. "Takomi was the one that kept advocating for me, for us, saying that devotion is more important than loyalty."

She paused and I watched her fight back a wave of tears that filled her eyes. I let out the breath I'd been holding as I whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"And our father would say - devotion is why Oliver Saxon is in the ground."

My blood froze in my veins and I couldn't help my eyes darting to the door for the hallway, knowing Jack was out there. Michiyo wiped a tear off her cheek and then shifted again on the couch. She let out a huff of pain as she slid to the edge, massaging her lower back with little pants of breath. I waited, trying to make my body relax, but another buzz in my purse made me jerk in surprise. Her face dropped into concern and she immediately tried to pacify,

"I didn't mean to alarm you. I only mention it because of the beautiful symmetry I see in it all. To think the two men made examples of for that day are now your right and left hands at the head of the 13th Family. It's a fitting revenge to prove that loyalty means nothing when you are devoted to a higher cause."

"Never thought of it that way." I automatically replied, trying to stay neutral when my brain was firing off in all sort of directions at what she'd just revealed to me.

She stood and I started to rise with her but she waved me off, saying, "I must use the restroom. He kicks my bladder relentlessly in the afternoon."

"Of course," I nodded watched as she waddled away.

I flopped backward onto the couch taking in large gulps of air trying to reset. This was a very intense conversation I'd stumbled into. I'd thought we were just going to be talking about her morning sickness and I'd give my support to her. Now I had way more questions than answers. What exactly had happened to Jack and Stellan after Oliver died? What were other Keepers like if they stood out so much among dozens of them? What other stories from Circle women were we about to hear in the wake of my decrees? Why did I continue to think I could keep managing meetings like this on my own? I felt like I was doing a pretty good job but ultimately I couldn't tell.

I forced myself to sit back up and focus on something else, taking in the cream-colored crown molding and then matching carpet and bedspread - green, just like the couch. This was a very prestigious hotel, but I was coming to realize that word was often synonymous with ancient furniture that didn't impress me. My phone buzzed again and with a roll of my eyes I opened my purse and yanked it out to see a series of pictures and texts from Stellan. My panic at so many texting coming in at once was quickly relieved. The first was one of Anya's Shopkins, a teapot with a cat face on it. It was followed with the text,

_This goes against all logic in the universe. _

_First how could dishes ever be sentient?_

_Second how could they also be a cat? _

The next picture was of every single Shopkins that I'd bought her clumped in small groups around Stellan's legs as he sat on the ground in Anya's room. Immediately after was of Anya carefully arranging some in lines. The text bracketed it all,

_She's lining them all up for school. _

_My kneecap is the playground. _

_Come home._

I clenched my teeth trying to stop the laugh, but the next picture and text did me in and I started quietly laughing as I zoomed in on a picture of Anya looking annoyed and pointing to Shopkins that had fallen out of line.

_Now. Come home now. _

_I'll do anything... _

I heard the toilet flush and quickly texted back,

_It doesn't have to make sense. _

_You just have to play. _

_Use your imagination. If you have one..._

I locked my phone and tossed it back into my purse, then leaned forward to grab my cup and take the few remaining, lukewarm, sips of tea. Smoothing down her beautiful dress, white with flowers in deep primary hues, she sat back down giving me a nervous glance,

"We have already run over our time, my apologies Your Majesty."

"Have we?" I looked down as I put my empty cup back on the table, trying to hide my wince. I didn't know if I was ever going to get used to that. Glancing at the grandfather clock in the corner I saw we were twenty minutes over. "It's fine."

"You are too kind. Thank you for listening to my scattered thoughts this morning. I am so humbled by the time you've given me. I'm sure you had much more important things to do. I will remember this kindness."

She gave me a deep nod, hands to her forehead and I felt my spine stiffen in response. Was it out of unease or because I felt that's what a Queen should do when being acknowledged by her subjects - I wasn't so sure. But I did want to make sure she knew the reason I'd contacted her in the first place,

"Michiyo," I folded my hands in my lap, digging my right middle finger into the prongs of my ring, "You have our blessing to do whatever you'd like. I know there will still be issues to resolve with your father, but this choice should be yours and yours alone. No woman should ever be made to feel that she is less just because she's a woman. That is why I made those decrees. We are just as capable to rule, and no one should tell us who we should marry."

"Wasn't your marriage arranged?" She quietly asked, her eyes curiously cautious.

I paused. I guess you could see it that way. Destiny and the Circle had both demanded a 'union' between us for all this to work. But it was only the Circle that thought it had meant marriage. Which meant I should tell her yes. But it wasn't arranged. I had fallen in love with him. We had said yes to each other without a single witness in Colette's villa. Despite all my hang-ups over the legality of it all I still continued to want him.

"No," I answered and then smiled at her. A slow blooming smile spread across her face along with her realization and then she appeared to fight back tears again.

"I'm sorry, I am normally not so emotional. But the hormones," she sniffled and wiped at her cheeks. I offered her my napkin from the table. "Thank you."

I reached over and grabbed her hand and squeezed right as someone knocked three times and then Jack's voice called out,

"Pardon, but we are out of time."

I stood, offering a hand to help Michiyo up and gave her a hug, careful not to bump her belly, though I knew I wasn't supposed to touch her. She squeezed my hand again and I grabbed my purse and quickly left the suite, Jack on my left as we clipped down the hall toward the elevators.

"Sorry, but you have your doctor's appointment before we leave for Cape Town tomorrow. We might be cutting it close with all the afternoon traffic." Jack explained as he held the elevator open for me.

"It's fine," I replied, sliding on my sunglasses. "Any longer I probably would have said something I shouldn't have."

Jack nodded and then rubbed at the back of his neck as we waited for the slow elevator doors to open back up. He glanced over at me and then dropped his hand and I rolled my eyes, I knew he wanted to ask, he was always so proper.

"Out with it," I commanded. The doors opened with a ding and we made our way through the lobby and the eyes swinging to see who we were. I'm sure there were plenty of Circle spies pretending to be guests in this opulent hotel lobby, or pedestrians out on the street as we made our way into the town car. But we ignored it all and once I'd tossed my purse at the floor and pushed my glasses up into my hair Jack sat diagonally from me and asked,

"Is she having Stephen's baby?"

I smirked at him and his eyes widened in disbelief, "it's a boy too."

"That's incredible." He mumbled to himself, looking out the window in contemplation.

I reached down and grabbed my phone kicking my feet up onto the seat next to me. Looking at his profile for a moment, I was suddenly overcome with a memory from my childhood. I was nine, at my desk, writing a letter in all my sparkling glitter pens - a different color each line - to Charlie so that my mother could mail it to Mr. Emerson and he could hand deliver it. It was all penpal type questions: how are you, how is your family, does it really rain all the time in England, what is your favorite movie? I never got any letters back from Charlie, but at the time

it made sense when we were always moving.

"What?" Jack's voice broke apart my memory and I blinked a few times at him, realizing I'd been staring.

"Did you ever get any of my letters?" I asked. It was a slightly embarrassing topic but there was no one here but us. This warm feeling was starting to fill my chest at the prospect of having possibly known Jack for most of my life. He gave me a very confused look and then slowly his face fell into comprehension.

"No," he smiled, "but I do remember some of the details. They were very colorful, right? And you'd send me bumper stickers from truck stops whenever you'd have to move."

My mouth dropped open with shock and we both started to laugh. "Wow! Do you still have them?"

Jack shook his head, "Fitz always told me he was hanging onto them, and then he'd forget them. Makes sense now why he did it but at the time I thought he was having a go at me."

I felt a genuine smile fill my face as an identical one filled his, and for the first time, in a very long time, I didn't feel horribly awkward around him. My phone buzzed again in my purse and I asked as I reached for it,

"Has Stellan been blowing you up too?"

"No, he had some lunch meeting. Refused to tell me what it was about." He shrugged and I glanced down at the flood of texts Stellan had sent. I had to stop after the first one.

_She just told me Jack does better voices. _

I pressed my lips together, trying to hold back the burst of laughter that wanted to escape. My eyes flew up and I looked over at Jack, but he was already on his own phone. I looked back down.

_I am torn between torturing him with this knowledge _

_and feeling like a failure as a parent. _

_I know you're reading these. _

The connections started fusing together in my brain so quickly it felt like a lightning storm of comprehension. Stellan's lunch meeting was with Anya. He didn't want anyone to interrupt them. And he didn't want anyone to know he went to play with his sister/daughter. Yet now he knew the one person he didn't want to have this knowledge had been doing a better job of it. Because we were all one big dysfunctional family, devoted to each other because of unorthodox connections and a deep need to protect the others. We were the perfect example of a family being who you choose, not what you were born into - or even forced to marry into. Michiyo's tearful response to my admission of my marriage not being arranged made sense now. In the end, a paper only proves loyalty - devotion is what withstands everything else.

I ran a hand across my forehead, overwhelmed by my realization. This was my family now. The family I'd cried myself to sleep wanting when I was little, the one I coveted from the revolving door of friends and neighbors I'd had. My phone buzzed in my hand again and I unlocked it to see,

_Save me Kuklachka. _

_You know you'd rather be here. _

I did. I wanted the car to move faster. I looked out at the slowly slogging traffic, frustrated. But then a wicked smile pulled across my face as I realized this amazing opportunity before me.

"I don't like that look on your face," Jack gave me a wary glance.

"So does the teapot have a deeper voice because it's bigger?" I asked, my shit eating grin showcasing all my teeth.

Jack's head tipped all the way back as he let out a huge exhale of, "Anya."

* * *

My house call with the team of doctors took longer than anyone had anticipated. It was nothing but bad news. It was meant to be the blessing that allowed me to do all the fun things planned for our week-long stay - instead, it showcased how sick I still was. I was still too thin. My iron was still low from all the blood loss in Ibiza and Egypt. My white count wasn't where they'd like it to be, indicating I was possibly fighting something or under duress. Both were true, and both of them had to do with my reactive arm and the unbelievable pain I had to fight off whenever it was flaring up. But I couldn't tell my doctor's that. So instead they decided to give me a full physical and take blood. Which lead to the cardiogram that revealed my heart was healing but behind schedule, another big flag. By the end of it, they concluded that they would reluctantly allow me to get on the plane, but the immunizations would be too much for my system. I'd have to stay inside as much as possible.

As they were packing up I could feel Stellan's eyes burning into me, urging me to ask about my PCS, but I couldn't handle another blow. I didn't need to be told I was also way too crazy to be going on this trip. Besides, that was a conversation that needed to be had just on its own. We could keep that secret between the two of us for now. With a quick kiss to my forehead Stellan had darted off saying he had another meeting he'd pushed, but a part of me wondered if he was going to go talk to the doctor's himself. My mood darkened and I picked at the tape on my tourniquet. I had a couple hours now before we were meeting in the dining room for the last minute planning and dinner, so I found myself wandering toward Anya's bedroom. The prospect of getting to ask if Stellan did voices too broke apart my brooding.

I was also wanted to ask her about the quick conversations I'd been hearing about choosing a school for her. We were coming up on September and while it would be perfectly fine to have her stay here with us and just hire her tutors, ultimately the choice had been made that she needed socialization. The question had become about safety. Did they think she'd be safe at a local day school or would she be safer at one of the prestigious boarding schools?

The worst thing that I'd been prepared for back in the states was an active shooter. I could see why no decision had been made yet. We had an entire new world order that was possibly infuriated with us at the moment. I didn't like the idea of sending the most vulnerable person in our family somewhere that couldn't offer her the best protection. It finally made sense to me why Stellan was such a hot mess while we were waiting for Elodie to return from Russia with Anya - there were too many variables. Yet we couldn't trap her here, that would be a big mistake.

I knocked three times and waited for her small reply. When I swung open the door to her room it felt like an assault on my eyes of chaos. Her desk was covered in books, magazines, stickers, colored pencils, and all her electronics. You could barely see her floor, I think all her clothes had managed to end up there. Her suitcase was open on the bed, and she was staring at it, pulling at the hair on the right side of her face, sliding it back and forth in front of her scars.

"What are you doing in here by yourself?" I brightly asked, trying to gauge if her room matched her mood. She turned, startled from her thoughts, and gave me a weak smile before looking back at her suitcase.

"Getting ready." She huffed.

"You know I don't think any of us have been to South Africa." I offered.

"Stellan has." She reached down and grabbed a pair of black tights, shoving them into her suitcase.

"Of course he has." I sighed, then watched her grab a handful of socks and shove those in. "You know Maria could have packed for you. I'm letting her pack for me."

"Stellan wants me to pack for myself. He said I'll get too big of a head." She picked up and then jammed a pair of white tights into the back of the bag. This was the worst mood I'd ever seen her in. It would, also, appear that both of the Korolov's needed space when they were angry. Despite her standoffish mood, I took a few tentative steps into the room.

"But you've also only packed tights and socks." I gently offered. "Were you not going to wear any clothes?"

"Oh", she turned red. "You're right." She stiffly moved toward the closet. This was going nowhere. I decided to hedge my bets and confront her about it.

"Is something wrong Anya?" I moved to her bed and pushed her suitcase aside so I could sit.

"Yes," she slowly answered to the closet and yanked down a couple dresses.

"Let's hear it," I leaned back against the wall, plucking at the sequins on her comforter as I waited. With a sigh she let the dresses drop to the ground and sat with a thump amongst all the fluff and glitter on the floor.

"I have to pick a school. And I want…"

"_Vy zakonchili?_"

We both straightened and looked up at him, startled at the barking command. Stellan hung onto the door jamb as he sized us up and then Anya sprung into action jumping up from the ground and gathering all her dresses.

"Almost. Sorry."

Sorry? Hadn't they spent the afternoon playing with each other? I highly doubted he'd packed anything. She started shoving dresses into her suitcase not making eye contact. I eyed him watching her with a very exasperated look, the tension palpable between them. Anya frowned down at her dresses and I sat up straighter on the bed. So he was allowed to brush me off when he was pissed but Anya had to jump to attention? That hardly seemed fair.

"I got this," I said to Stellan.

"She should already be done." He scolded her in response and a flash of annoyance propelled me to react.

"Sure." I snapped. "Go back to whatever you were doing." I waved him off, dismissively.

Anya continued to fold the same dress over and over again listening to us intently. Stellan moved his exasperated look to me instead and I glowered at him in response, he clenched his jaw and left. Anya was still attempting to fold all the layers of her dress into the suitcase. I reached forward and pulled it to me, dumping the contents onto the bed and starting over from scratch.

"Thank you." She said so quietly I almost didn't hear it.

"What's going on with you two?" I started stacking the dresses in a pile on my lap.

"I'm mad at him." She said down to her hands, picking at her peeling nail polish.

"Oh," I tried to keep my voice even but I was instantly burning to know every detail. I carefully started folding her tights to keep myself in check. "Why is that?"

She folded her hands in front of herself, her little fingers pressed hard into the tops of her hands and let out a hard breath. I didn't want to push her, but she looked fit to burst. I cleared my throat to try another question when her hands flew out suddenly and she nearly shouted,

"He's so bossy!"

I bit my lip and looked immediately down at the suitcase frantically folding more tights to keep from laughing. She charged on,

"He tells me I can pick things but then he picks for me. Why is he the boss now? It was better when he was only on the phone. Now he has orders all the time!"

"Anya, he is...kind of the boss of you," I carefully interjected when she stopped to take a breath.

"I know that. He's my Dad. But he's also my brother. And then he tells me that's what our parents would have wanted. I don't remember them. I only know him. And he's making all these new rules that aren't fair."

She scrunched her face, her eyes quickly filling with tears. I was frozen on the bed. There was a lot to unpack there. I'd thought the reason for the tension was Stellan being an unnecessary taskmaster about this trip.

"I know you feel…" I started to say when she wiped at her face and then steamed off again,

"In Russia, everyone was always telling me how lucky I was. To have the money to dance and buy nice things. But I didn't want the money. I wanted him. And now he is here and all I want to be is alone again. I don't want to disappoint him." Her voice broke a little as fat tears filled her eyes, hanging on the long lashes.

"Oh wow," I whispered, letting out a long breath trying to prepare myself. She'd been holding a lot back from us. And it was only now that I'd realized she'd had no one to tell. She wiped at her face again, her cheeks blotchy from her outburst and sniffled as she looked at me. "Anything else?"

"He told me I have to go to Kentstone. I don't want to. I want to go to a school with all girls. But I don't want to make him mad at me." She took in a deep, shaky, breath, wiping at her face again before letting her hands flop to her sides.

"Anya he could never be mad at you. At least not for very long. You are the most important thing in the world to him." I quickly interjected. She slumped rolling her shoulders and staring hard at her bed as she processed this.

"It doesn't feel like it." She sniffled. It bubbled up to the surface too quick for me to stop,

"When Jack and I figured out that he was the missing piece of the puzzle," I bit my lip to stop myself. Her eyes shot to me, pleading,

"Please tell me."

I paused, unsure. We still hadn't discussed how much we were going to tell her. This didn't feel like crossing a line, but I didn't want to say something wrong either. She crawled up onto the bed and sat in front of me.

"Please." She tried again. With those huge blue eyes and tiny sniffle, I knew I couldn't deny her. I nodded and took a breath trying to stall and prepare how to word this.

"The reason Stellan decided to help us, the reason he let us escape was you." Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. Hearing the way I'd worded it echo in my brain made me groan inwardly. My intention hadn't been to peak her interest. I tried to regroup, "he doesn't want any of this Anya."

I gestured around her room, fluffed one of her dresses and then spun my rings around my finger as she slowly started to nod. I continued,

"He did this for you. I know you've probably been hearing that your whole life, but it's the truth. And it's okay to be mad at him, but just try to remember that."

"I know." She sighed. "He just gets so mean. I can't tell him things."

I pressed my lips together trying to imagine what him being 'mean' might look like. She was so adorable when she pouted I had no idea how Stellan could ever actually reprimand her. The swelling of love filled me. I wanted to hug her, squeeze her to my chest and hold on long after she tried to push me away. I would do anything for her, she had come to mean so much to me. She frowned down at her unpacked dresses again and I reached out and tugged at the bottom of her skirt until she looked up,

"But you can tell me things, and then I can talk to him. I care about you too. I want what's best for you and I'll be here for you in whatever way you want."

"You'd do that for me?" She leaned forward, her eyes impossibly big now as she held her breath for my answer.

"Of course. We're family." I nodded. "We tell each other everything."

My brain instantly flashed his hidden hands and I could have sworn my arm ached in response. Well...almost everything. I forced myself to bury it and looked back into her waiting face.

"I would like that." She whispered as if speaking it too loud would make me change my mind. "I want to go to St Lucia's."

"Then you will." I smiled. She launched across the bed and squealed as she hugged me.

* * *

It was at hour seven that Anya started to lose it on the plane. It was almost a twelve-hour flight to Cape Town and the Kohenings welcome wagon party. She and I were the only people that hadn't been on a plane for that long and as I watched her anxious pace up and down the aisles I couldn't help but sympathize. No amount of prep work Elodie kept attempting to fill my brain with or lost games of solitaire were taking my mind off the fact that we were still going to be confined to this speeding death trap for another five hours. She fretted past me again, rubbing her little cupcake Shopkins in between her thumb and pointer finger as she took another lap. I wanted to join her, but there were still fourteen more pages of debriefing I had to get through.

I would have thought once I'd abandoned my old life in America to traipse across Europe, colluded with the most powerful people in the world, and married someone at seventeen my days of cramming for a test would be over. Oh, how wrong I'd been. Everyone kept stressing that this was a friendly visit, unlike the trip to Paris. But I hadn't had an entire packet of information to memorize when we'd strong-armed the Dauphins into compliance. Something was happening here and I was only getting half the information again. My anxious, exhausted, brain was failing at strategizing the best time to ask. I had to get Stellan alone and Jack had proved surprisingly good at beating me to that.

The Kohenings had been supportive of our ascension from day one. They'd offered resources from the beginning, and since I hadn't killed their firstborn son by association there weren't any mixed feelings on the table. With all that coming into play they had invited the entire Circle to come to this event, which didn't happen that often. Most of the Families didn't like to leave Europe and the fact that we were coming for more than a weekend was a very big deal to everyone. This party was going to be massive. It would last a week, there was going to be a fundraising gala, a safari, and box seats for the soccer match that was happening at the week's end. A lot of Elodie's initial prep work was just educating me about South Africa in general, then the Kohenings, and then how all the Circle Family's might interact with each other. When she started to launch into how a Family member embarrassed another Family right before the first World War I held up a hand,

"My brain is melting."

"But we haven't even gotten to World War II." She balked at me and I stood up, closing the packet with a snap.

"We're done. For now." I commanded and she leaned back in her black leather bucket seat.

"Is that an order?" She tested. I rose an eyebrow at her,

"Does it need to be?"

I was trying very hard not to snap at her. We'd been such an amazing team for the Circle meeting, I was baffled as to why we'd switched right back to frenemies for this. Having to make nice and look pretty in front of a bunch of Circle suck-ups did not warrant a Master's in Circle history. This was just booze and couture, not eliciting change and protecting my family by commanding a room. Besides, we both knew Stellan was better at bullshitting at stuff like this. If she was trying to be strategic she should be telling me to keep my mouth shut.

"Homework over?" Stellan asked behind me, his hands cupping my shoulders before he started to massage them. The fact that he was touching me at all immediately released the tension out of the bunched muscles as I narrowed my eyes at Elodie's challenging stare.

"Whatever Her Majesty desires." She conceded with a deep bow of her head. I tensed, ready to release my barb, my noodle brain and short temper mixing volatility in my chest, but Stellan pulled me against himself and started to drag me away from the table. Elodie and I exchanged a final glare before he dumped me into a seat further up the plane from her.

"She's bipolar. I can never tell if she likes me or not." I snapped as he moved past me to sit in the empty seat to my left.

"Elodie only likes herself. The sooner you realize that…" he trailed off as we both heard Anya explode with giggling laughter. I tried to turn around and see but Stellan reached over and pressed my thighs back into the seat. "And Anya. Elodie only likes herself and Anya."

"Fine. My brain is fried." I relaxed back into the leather and he released me. Here was my chance. I leaned toward him and he smirked and moved closer as well, "why is she being so intense anyway?"

"Oh," he frowned and leaned back, glancing out the window. The silence built between us and my arm started to ache. I snapped it out in front of me, jamming my fist into the scar as I lowly said,

"More secret strategies, hu? Guess that's just what happens on Circle planes?"

"Less chance of being overheard. Unless there are bugs." He automatically answered and I moved to stand. He grabbed my hand and tugged me back down, then let go, running his fingers up my arm over my cardigan. When he paused at my elbow I turned my arm out and guided his fingers right to the spot that was still aching.

"Here," I whispered. He pressed his fingers into it, testing, and then abruptly pulled his hands back, folding them across his chest. I pressed my aching arm against my side, I suppose you could count that as progress. As the engines roared in the silence between us I shifted uncomfortably. Jack was at the front of the plane glued to a computer, Elodie was still in the back making Anya giggle with whatever game they were playing, Stellan was right next to me even if he was being uncharacteristically quiet. Despite being in a situation that was familiar, the plane felt wrong, empty, without Colette and Luc here. The ache in my arm unraveled and I sighed with relief in the same moment he took a breath.

"We don't have every Family. Even a few of the ones we do have are being very vocal about the blowback from our new decrees. The remaining holdouts are not thrilled about how smoothly this is going for us. They think it's all a lie, and they're trying to sway our allies with whispers." He said, his voice so low I almost didn't hear it over the hum of the engines.

"What lies?" I whispered back, incredulous, turning to face him. His eyes darted to my scar, and then he untucked his hands, folding them into his lap. He took a few settling breaths, staring at his hands again and I reached over and touched the center of the sunburst tattoo over his dress shirt. Maybe the reason he didn't want to talk about this was for the same reasons he didn't want to touch me lately - control. If this power was linked to his emotions, upsetting him in this giant - conductive - metal tube of death would not be a good thing. I started to trace the design and he nodded, closing his eyes, relaxing under my touch.

"The captives. The power. The transfers. The marriage. The baby." He exhaled and shook his hands out a little. But my palm went flat on his back,

"Baby?" I blanched.

"You didn't hear that one, huh?" He smiled at me, but it was forced, fake, and it made my stomach churn. "They are all convinced you must be pregnant. As if that could be the only explanation as to why you were hospitalized for so long."

"No one thought to correct this?" I immediately asked, picking up my tracing again.

"To reveal you have a heart condition that could be exploited?" He retorted and I nodded and let my finger drag down the sword over the silky white fabric.

"So what's the part of the plan you can tell me?" I started at the center of the sunburst again and he leaned back, pressing my hand in between himself and the seat. He smirked at my jerk of annoyance, trying to get my hand out,

"Pretend you like me."

"Oh," I huffed, contemplating his request. I rose an eyebrow at him, "that might be hard."

"Just close your eyes and think of England." He teased.

"Because humidity and terrible food really get me off." I deadpanned back. Stellan laughed, quickly and loudly and I saw Jack twist his head toward us to see what the fuss was about. I felt myself turning bright red and slid down my seat, my hand still trapped behind him. With a final yank, I crossed my arms over my chest as Stellan calmed himself down, relaxing back, all the tension gone in his frame.

I heard Elodie's heels stomping down the carpeted aisle before the folder landed with a thud in my lap,

"If you have time to laugh, you have time to learn."

She turned back toward Anya as I said in my worst possible French,

"_Merci Madame Fontane_."

Stellan started to snigger and corrected me, "_Mademoiselle_."

"She'll die alone. No one would marry that kind of attitude." I clarified, glaring at my booklet as I searched for my page. Stellan started laughing again and from the corner of my eye, I caught Jack look at us, smile, and then turn back to his computer. Stellan pulled the armrest up between us and scooched closer,

"World War I? Fun," he dropped off.

"I don't suppose someone wrote a Sparknotes on Circle history?" I asked, looking over at him hopeful. His face quirked into confusion,

"Sparknotes?"

I deflated and settled back down into my horribly dry required reading. But I barely retained any of it for the rest of the flight, because after weeks of avoidance his fingers were finally in my hair again. And my neck, my collarbones, between my shoulders, the strap of my bra, my waist, the outside of my thighs, behind my knee…

* * *

Cape Town was dramatic and sprawling, with colorful buildings from the edge of the water all the way to the base of the craggy mountains that dominated the skyline. The sprawl even wrapped around a mesa set in the middle of the city. The water was several different shades of blue I'd only ever seen on TV shows, capped with white at the top of the waves rolling in endlessly from the sea. The ocean breeze was a welcomed change from the muggy humidity in London and I kept finding myself taking very deep breaths trying to fill my lungs with it. The Kohenings were warm and inviting, their smiles broad and genuine as we all exited the helicopter ride we'd taken from the private airport to Ellerman House. They had bought out the whole resort for the entirety of our stay. We'd been informed accommodations for the rest of the Circle had been made at adjacent resorts, as it had been made clear that we required privacy. I wasn't sure who had requested that but as I took in the luxurious, meticulous grounds that sat above the Atlantic ocean I was deeply appreciative. This was actually starting to feel like a vacation.

Except for the part where I now only had a couple hours before I'd have to start getting ready for the gala. Despite my annoyance at it, the Kohenings had taken the initiative of having so much money in one place to throw a fundraising gala the likes of which we were sure would make front page news the next day. I applauded them for using all our celebrity for a worthy cause. It made all the paparazzi and red carpet I knew would bombard us a little easier to swallow when it was all for something good. Which was why it was going to take me hours to get ready. I had to look flawless for this. No pressure.

Once the Kohenings had left us to settle in I moved into the grounds, past the pool, and slid onto one of the black and white striped chaise lounges that overlooked the ocean and town below, right up against the bright white banister that ran the length of the property. An attendant seemed to appear out of thin air and offered me a sweating glass of cucumber water which I gratefully accepted as I crossed my legs. It was so quiet. We were high above the ocean and the rhythmic sound of it was more background to the birds chirping and the wind through the palms. After being inside the roaring of those engines for half a day this was exactly what my scrambled brain needed. Quiet, seclusion, relaxation. Behind me I could faintly pick up Jack working out security details, Elodie corralling a wound up Anya from jumping immediately into the pool, and footsteps cutting across the lush grass. I took a long sip and then smiled as a shadow fell over me when he hung over the top of the chair and kissed the top of my head,

"Enjoying the view?"

"Come sit with me." I patted the small space next to me and he slunk around, still not sitting yet.

"I should probably," he started.

"Let Jack do his job?" I cut over him. He nodded and then sat at the end of my chair. I propped my feet up onto his lap and took another sip, eyeing him over my glass.

"You're taking your orders seriously." He smirked and then examined the grounds. His face moving slightly as he looked over the three stories of empty villas and suites, the ocean that mirrored in the windows was reflecting back in his dark sunglasses.

"Isn't that the ploy for this visit? Relaxation and to showcase our irresponsible love for each other?" I wiggled down the lounge a little, letting my legs slide over his own.

"Irresponsible?" He questioned, his hands running up and down my bare calves, sliding up toward my knees.

"Too much business and legend involved to let something messy like love muck it up. That's why they used to arrange all the marriages in the Circle, right?" I set my refreshment down, there was a small click as glass met glass. I lowered my own sunglasses to give him a look.

"Is that how Elodie was wording it? No wonder you were about to punch her in the throat." He looked out toward the ocean and I laughed a little as I appreciated the profile.

Could this be a vacation? Couldn't I treat it like one? Did every interaction we had from now on have to be tainted by some Circle business? If the plan was for us to showcase our solid marriage and partnership would it be so bad to fall deeply into character? To outwardly enjoy all this private luxury with my favorite person? He turned back to look at me, hair glinting in the late afternoon sun and I forced myself not to whine as I said,

"It seems like a crime to leave all this for corsets and heels I want to burn after wearing."

He slid toward me up the chaise, his fingers sliding under the hem of my pencil skirt in the process, lowering himself until he was pressing into my left side, and whispered into my ear,

"Play nice. We'll have plenty of time."

"Stellan!" Anya yelled from behind us and we both let out a quick exasperated breath before straightening back up. I reached for my glass and he raked his fingernails down my thigh as he stood and left. A little shiver of excitement rolled down my spine as I watched him walk away. Plenty of time indeed. I waited for someone else to interrupt my decompression, but it was only clinking ice and calling birds. He must have told them something, picking up in that small exchange that I needed a moment to regroup for this. Everyone let me stare out at the waves, alone, for a good hour before I had to start getting ready.

* * *

Elodie's voice was fading out on me again, my fuzzy brain refusing to concentrate on the info dump she kept trying to shove into my short-term memory.

"Which would be," she prompted and then stopped, adjusting another one of the delicate bows at the back of my neck. She circled around to face me, her perfect red lips frowning. I scrambled through all my thoughts trying to cobble an answer together,

"International Monetary Fund?" I tried and then held my breath, already knowing I was wrong. She narrowed her eyes at me, adjusting the collar of my dress before circling around to my back again. I felt her shifting the fit before she snapped,

"Moravian Mission Stations." Her phone buzzed in the hidden pocket of her simple black shift dress and she stopped poking at me to answer.

I took the breather to look at myself in the full-length mirror. This was one of the most magnificent and complicated dresses I'd ever worn. It was a shade of pale gold that made my eyes pop out on my face instantly. Sleeveless, with a high neck that hit just below my chin, the beaded flowers down the bodice tapered into my waist and then filled out to a ballgown skirt to the floor. There was possibly close to ten thousand sequins and bobbles that shifted from the same pale gold at the top of the dress to a deep, metallic gold at the bottom. It reminded me of a working hourglass, the majority of them at the bottom of the gown. Even with all that the back was the complicated part. At least a dozen delicate bows brought the fabric together like a makeshift corset, with more intricate beadwork all across the back. It was all finished with a jet black velvet bow that tied in the front, tapering almost to the floor. Stellan had smiled at me before he left to check on Anya but then frowned as Elodie started to pile all my hair on top of my head. I was disappointed too, but there was no way you'd hide the back of this dress.

Elodie's heels clicked around me and I stifled a yawn behind my hand, shaking my head a little, struggling to break up the fog. She tapped the tops of both my shoulders and then the top of my head and lifted her hands,

"Posture. Don't disrespect the dress with your slouching." She leaned toward me, examining her work on my eyeliner again and I shifted in my heels.

"What was the text about?" I tried, hoping to stop the drill and kill of information for a moment.

"Jackie confirmed the cars are on their way and that the Wang's made it after all." She took a few steps back and then nodded, approving my final adjustment before we left.

"Which is good because…" I prompted and she cut over me with,

"Bad because the Mikado's are also here and they still hate each other after the…" She couldn't hide her victorious smile. She knew I didn't have the answer. I forced the part of me that wanted to be angry deep into my chest. Elodie was doing her job, and she was very good at it. I couldn't be angry at her for trying to prepare me for this. But it made me miss Colette even more. She'd always had a way of feeding me information without all the superiority behind it. I straightened my back and then shrugged,

"Because one of them killed the other one? It seems like that used to be the only thing the Circle did before they realized amassing fortunes was a better use of their time."

"You get a P. Needs evidence and historical anecdotes." She smirked.

"As long as I didn't fail," I said. Now that we were about to leave my nerves bloomed again in my stomach. The worst that could happen was flat Champagne but I couldn't shake it. "Now that my sociopath family won't be here to terrorize the night, what's the over-under on a stabbing?"

"Of actual Circle, highly unlikely. But of staff, now that's always a very real possibility." She said, her eyes lighting up with mischief. It did not settle my nerves.

"What is it about rich people in fancy clothes that keeps eliciting violent ends?" I asked. She shrugged,

"There was a couple months where Jackie and Oliver kept going to every single party that ended in a stabbing. Stellan started calling him Jack the Ripper."

"Because Jack stabbed those people?" I shot in, incredulous. Elodie pressed her lips together, careful not to mess them and then reached forward to fix my collar again. In the silence, my curiosity got the better of me and I quietly asked, "How many people has Jack killed?"

Her hand stilled before she answered, "you have to ask him that."

She pulled her hand away and I could feel the question hanging between us, like a third person. I just had to ask, but did I really want to know? I looked down at my fidgeting hands, spun my diamond around my finger and looked right into her waiting eyes,

"How many people have you killed?"

"Directly? Three." She paused and I let out a breath of relief. But then she quirked the side of her mouth in thought and continued, "Indirectly...hard to say. Maybe fifteen."

"Fifteen?" I took a step away from her. Her face filled with bemused confusion,

"What exactly did you think I did for Madame Dauphin?"

"Personal assistant, babysitter for Luc, art procurement." I listed, wanting to cross my arms over my chest protectively but unable to because of the dress.

"That is true." She nodded contemplating this. "But I also used to poison people."

"Why?" I immediately asked. It was a gut reaction unstoppable in my current state. Elodie examined her nails, seemingly bored already by the topic.

"They got in her way, they were trying to blackmail her, blackmail the Family, paparazzi that were attempting to photograph all her lovers." She rattled on, rolling her wrist and then looked up at me.

I was almost afraid to ask. "Do you...poison people...for us?"

"Not yet." She smiled, wolfishly. Her phone buzzed in her hand again. "Ah, the car is ready."

I waited for her to leave first, it seemed to delight her even more. She swayed out of the suite toward the front of the resort, and I followed several steps behind. I was starting to fear I would never actually know Elodie at all, not like I knew everyone else in our little group. Which made what Jack saw in her even more confusing. The few other times I'd accidentally caught them in a slightly intimate moment she was practically a different person. A chameleon like that was always dangerous. At least she felt some kind of loyalty to me - even if it was only because Stellan and Jack asked her too. I just wished it didn't come with such a large side of disdain almost every time we had to interact with each other.

She slid up to Jack's side and lowly commented something to him that made him crack a smile before he fixed the cuffs on his tux and checked his weapon. With a small nod, he moved toward the town car at the front of the roundabout and Elodie opened the door to the second one for me. I gathered my dress and slowly lowered myself into the car, careful not to let my heels catch on all the layers. With a few tucks around my ankles, Elodie shoved the rest of the dress in after me and then slammed the door shut, banging the top of the car twice before taking off toward the car Jack had slipped into.

I let out a long breath of relief leaning back against the seat and felt the knots on the dozen or so bows down my entire back dig into my skin. Right - horrible shoes and a ribbon corset torture device. This was going to be a very long night. Next to me, Stellan shifted and I sat forward, shaking my head a little before looking over at him. It didn't seem fair that he got to keep wearing, in effect, fancier versions of what he wore every single day. There isn't much of a stretch from a suit to a tux. Maybe the bowtie? I bet his shoes were comfortable too.

"Everything alright?" He asked sliding his hand across the middle seat, palm up. I immediately put my own on top of it, threading our fingers as the cars pulled away from the curb. Elodie's smile flashed across my thoughts again and I lowly answered,

"Elodie is terrifying."

Without context and without prompting for more he squeezed my hand and said, "don't ever forget that."


	16. Chapter 15

The event was being held at the Bosjes chapel and resort. It wasn't open to the public yet and the Konings' had rented out the entire property. The tea room had been converted into the bar, the main house was where the auction was being held, the surrounding grounds held tables laden with charcuterie. A few yards from the house the famous architectural masterpiece chapel had been converted into the dance floor for the night. Floating lanterns and standing tables surrounded the reflective pool, and the setting sun against the vineyard and mountains was absolutely breathtaking. The fact that I wasn't going to be trapped in another gilded ballroom for an entire night was exhilarating.

Yet, this was still a very public event so the outside the venue was crawling with photographers and reporters. The plan was for the 13th Family to arrive last, which was why we were already an hour late to a party in our honor. That way we could ensure no one tried to steal the spotlight. Anya had opted to skip the red carpet again but would meet up with us when we were officially received by the Konings' inside the property. I swear we both sighed enviously as we watched her skip off with Jack, and then switched on our Circle smiles.

The red carpet up to the event had made my corneas burn there were so many flashes, and I was glad Stellan had kept an arm around my waist as we slowly made our way through the line toward the waiting Konings' just past the solid oak gates. Luckily, once you crossed the property line that's where the photography onslaught ended, but the Circle pressure began. With a quick glance around I could see all the security watching the perimeter of this place to ensure privacy. As if on cue Anya slid into place next to Stellan as we made the final few steps. The Konings' all graciously bowed to us before Mr. Konings gestured to the right first,

"Our son, Declan," he said smiling proudly. Declan gave Stellan and I a bow as well before turning toward his wife and small children,

"My wife Zara and our sons Marcellus and Kieran."

The two boys landed huge, purple, eyes on Stellan and I before fumbling with something resembling a bow, their mother giving tugs to their tiny tuxes to keep them in line as she bowed as well. It was all so incredibly formal and surreal with the buzzing of the press behind us that I almost laughed at the boys. It would appear children hated formal events no matter what their station in life was. They couldn't be much older than Anya though they were bigger than her in both height and weight. The three of them were exchanging smiles at each other as Mrs. Konings ran a hand across her daughter's shoulders,

"And this is Talia."

Once she had finished her bow she smiled at her nephews and held out a graceful hand toward the venue behind us saying,

"If the princess would like to go with Zara and Declan we've arranged some surprises to entertain the children."

Anya chanced a glance at Stellan who nodded and Jack adjusted his earpiece as he followed the group toward the main house. The rest of us slowly made our way through the grounds each host listing off different historical or architectural facts as we were given the tour. Around us, the rest of the Circle and their guests were laughing, eating, drinking, but I could feel their eyes as we passed. The heat of Stellan's hand could barely make it through all the beading on my gown at the small of my back, but whenever I'd teeter a little in my heels his fingers would wrap around my hip and tug me back into place. I wasn't usually this clumsy, but as I forced back the yawn that tried to escape as Mr. Kohening launched into some history lesson on the vineyard the realization hit me all at once - travel fatigue.

We finally stopped at the bar and the Konings' broke off explaining they needed to ensure the auction was ready to start. I wasted no time and ordered a glass of white wine, drinking it all in three gulps. Between the fatigue, the unnerving amount of eyes on me and the historical precedence that something was going to go horribly wrong because I was in a fancy dress I rationalized liquid courage would be the only way to get through the rest of this night. I gestured to the bartender and picked up my second glass when Stellan slid his arm around my waist and guided me away from the bar laughing a little as he lowly said to me,

"Alcohol makes it worse _lyubov' moya_."

"Now you tell me," I grumbled and took a sip. He took a drink of his own and we looked around the party, all eyes on us but no one coming to talk to the guests of honor. A cool breeze rustled through the tea garden making the beautiful large glass lightbulbs swing above us. I looked up into an unbelievable amount of stars in the sky and smiled as I really took in the grounds. All of the buildings had been designed to work with the surrounding mountains, nothing obstructing the view or the lines, it was beautiful. I was surprised from my observation when Stellan leaned forward and left a kiss on my jaw before whispering in my ear,

"The Dauphin's made Luc stay home for this one."

We both turned to see them greet the Wang's, their backs to us. I held onto the front of Stellan's tux and asked,

"How did they possibly manage that?"

"He's still on house arrest for all his various insubordinations," Stellan smirked at me and took a sip of his wine. The idea hit me immediately. I knew it had to be killing Luc that he had been forced to stay in France, and both he and Colette not being able to experience this with me seemed so wrong. I took a few steps closer to Stellan and slid my hand into his pocket. I didn't have a phone, Elodie had insisted that no clutch could possibly match and I wouldn't need it anyway.

"Little early for that," he shifted on his heels as an eyebrow rose on his face. I gave him an annoyed look and plucked his phone out of his pocket holding it out for him to unlock it. As soon as he did I snapped a few pictures of the bar and the food and of Stellan giving me a disapproving frown before sending them off to Luc in a text. Followed with:

_Miss you Luc! -Avery_

I didn't even have time to lock the phone before he texted us back,

_MORE! _

_It's the tragedy of the year that I'm stuck here._

I took another large gulp of my wine so it wouldn't slosh around too much before I texted back,

_So far it's just endless flashes and lots of wine._

A waiter passed by with a tray and Stellan drained his glass before setting it down, peeking down at his phone as Luc's rapid reply popped up on the screen.

_Drink all the wine, Avery! _

_It's the only way to get through these things_

_And maybe into some mischief._

I let out a laugh in response and was about to text him back when Stellan plucked the phone from my hands and slid it back into his pocket,

"Are you eleven? We need to be mingling."

"With people that are obviously afraid of us," I retorted back. He took a breath to reply when it was announced to the venue that the auction was starting. We filed in with the rest of the group and I saw out of the corner of my eye Elodie finishing up a plate of food as she moved toward us. The booze sloshed around in my empty stomach and I wondered if it would be a huge faux pas to make her bring me a plate. But it was too late, the official from Christie's took the stage and they wheeled out the first piece. It was this abstract painting of splatters and boxes.

"We will start the bidding at 1 Million."

I coughed to try and hide my reaction. How could that possibly cost that much? Then to my utmost surprise, Stellan rose two fingers above his head and the auctioneer nodded toward him and asked if someone wanted to raise. I felt my eyes widen on my face and looked toward Elodie for some kind of explanation but she was whispering rapid-fire things to him in French, which he nodded at and then raised his hand again. It felt surreal but then someone bested his raise and Elodie shook her head the painting finally going to an Emir, I thought, for a whopping 2 Million dollars. I leaned toward Stellan and whispered,

"Aren't we supposed to win?"

He smiled and then leaned toward me to murmur back,

"We were invited to a fundraiser. I'm going to bid on everything and drive up the price. No one wants to be outbid by usurpers. He just paid two times the price for that."

"That's amazing," I said into my glass, smiling as I took a sip. The next piece was wheeled forward. Someone jumped on the bidding before Stellan could and then Elodie gave him a jab to the back and he raised his hand. There was something incredibly bracing to see that he was still learning this new role too. I wasn't the only one that needed Elodie's hard hand. He lost that bid as well, but now there was this energy building in the room. People were starting to loosen up. He leaned toward me and said,

"If you see something you actually like let me know."

I watched as he drove the price up on three more pieces when Talia Konings slid up next to me and brightly commented to the surrounding group,

"_Dit is ongelooflik_. We've already met our goal and there are still four more pieces."

"_Moet nooit 'n dick wedstryd spel onderskat nie._" I smiled in response, realizing far too late I'd actually said my drunken thought out loud. Stellan and Elodie snapped toward me with incredulous looks but Talia started laughing, her hand on my arm as she said,

"_Jy is ongelooflik! Ek het geen idee gehad nie_!"

"_Geen_," I took another sip, "_Ek dink dis net die alkohol_."

Talia laughed again and then exclaimed toward Stellan and Elodie's shocked faces,

"I love her!"

Elodie's eyes narrowed to where her hand was resting and Talia snapped it back quickly apologizing. But behind me, I could hear the whispers and phones taking pictures - too late. That would probably be construed as favoritism. As the booze swelled in me again I really didn't care, despite Elodie's constant warning that I couldn't show favoritism. She'd been a gracious host and I liked her. Besides everyone already knew who we were playing favorites to. I had been specifically told by Elodie to befriend her at this. Mission accomplished on my front.

The booze was starting to buzz through my veins making me feel giddy and exhausted all in the same moment. I should probably eat something. I wondered if it would be terribly rude to leave the auction and frantically shove expensive cheese and Prosciutto into my dangerously drunk mouth. There was a murmur as they wheeled out the next one.

"This piece was very hard to procure." Talia murmured to me. Elodie was snapping things excitedly at Stellan in French and he gave her a sideways look trying to slow her down.

"_Hoekom is dit belangrik_?" I asked the group, the booze making me sound a little too casual. Talia laughed again and said,

"It's very rare."

Elodie eyed me with a sharp look and I darted my eyes back to the front, worried about her ire. Instead, she picked up from where Talia had dropped off with a reverent tone, "this piece is part of small collection done back in the 16th century. All other pieces are housed at various museums. It is truly remarkable."

I glanced over at Stellan and then we both eyed Elodie who was now glued to the painting. The auctioneer finished his set up,

"We will start the bidding at 3 million."

There was a murmur through the crowd, someone rose a hand, I tapped Stellan's foot with my own and then gave a little nod toward Elodie and rose an eyebrow at him. He tried to hide his smirk.

"9 million," Stellan called out. The room gasped a bit, even Elodie.

"Thank you, sir. 9 million, any other bids?"

No one said anything, I heard someone mutter behind me,

"That's far too high."

"Going once, twice," the auctioneer quickly said then knocked his gavel down onto his podium. "Sold for 9 million."

Everyone started to clap, though I wasn't sure why. Elodie's whole face was flushed and she stared at the two of us in shock. I smiled at her,

"It will look nice in your room."

"_Non_," She inhaled. I nodded and then Stellan leaned forward and kissed my temple as they wheeled out the next piece. Talia let out a small noise of appreciation next to us,

"I should invite the two of you to everything."

I let out a laugh as Stellan bid on the next item and took another sip. Behind me the whispers were building, Keepers and security details were stacked against the wall, further out into the grounds I caught Anya and the Kohening grandchildren throwing pebbles into the reflection pool, Jack's familiar frame moving toward their horseplay. The auction was still carrying on around us but I could feel myself flushing from the now stuffy room and a belly full of wine. I started to move toward the exit, needing air and heard Stellan excuse himself as he followed me out.

"I just needed some air," I said over my shoulder making a beeline toward the food. The breeze pushed through the venue again and I took in a deep breath of it before shoving a piece of sausage in my mouth. Stellan reached forward and pulled my almost empty glass of wine out of my hand setting it down between some olives.

"Are you alright, Avery?" He asked, grabbing both my shoulders to turn me toward him. I looked longingly at the food for a moment before shrugging,

"I'm drunk."

"That was a surprise," he squeezed my shoulders in emphasis. Then leaned forward to lowly ask, "when did you learn that language?"

"I would hardly call my twelve words of Russian another language," I laughed. Then I looked up into his face and the laugh died in my throat. He was serious. "What language?"

Behind us, there was some light applause and an announcement that all the pieces would be put on display for the next hour before being packaged back up. Stellan dropped me and took a deep breath, shaking out his left fist, my scar fluttering with pinpricks of pain and I turned back toward the table to pile everything within grabbing distance onto a plate. All the doors opened on the main house and I grabbed my glass of wine, downing it with a final swallow.

"You should slow down," he warned me before the group made it to the table. Leaving the glass behind we both started to walk away from the food. It was quite the balancing act with my stacked plate and high heels.

"Not like they're handing out water bottles," I countered tossing some grapes and nuts into my mouth. He looked around for a moment, flagged over the bartender and asked for a glass of water. I popped a piece of cheese in next and then shot my eyes to my plate looking for more, "oh that was good."

The bartender hastened over with my water and Stellan grabbed it and started moving us toward the chapel. We paused at one of the standing tables, Jack nodding toward us as we watched Anya and the boys race little remote control speed boats across the surface of the reflective pool. I smiled broadly at that, if only we could all have a night like Anya's. Stellan stole a grape off my plate right as Elodie slid up onto his other side, Jack making his way over as well. I looked back at the main house to see groups of people moving toward the bar and the food again, some slowly making their way toward the chapel.

"Did you know?" She demanded, her anger immediate and directed solely at Stellan. I was already lost.

Stellan shot her the dirtiest look I'd ever seen him give her and she bristled turning away as we all waited for Jack to settle. Stellan stole another grape but used it as a way to covertly shake out his hand, my scar pain dulling a bit from all the alcohol now pouring through my bloodstream. I popped another piece of the delicious cheese into my mouth and waited to see what new argument this was going to be about.

Instead, Elodie shot off something in quick French that made Jack's eyes pop wide open on his face. He looked me up and down before answering her back in French. To which Stellan shot in something in French. They kept going on, ignoring me altogether, my anger flared with all my booze and I snapped at all three of them,

"_Fok julle naaiers_!"

For the first time in my life, I made Elodie, Jack, and Stellan speechless at the same moment. They gawked at me, and I nervously glanced around them at the Circle members eyeing us as they made their way toward the chapel. Anya's bright shriek of laughter shook them all out of their stupor. We glanced over to see she'd sunk a lantern with her speedboat. Jack, surprisingly, was the one that spoke first,

"You have no idea you're speaking Afrikaans do you?"

"_Baie snaak_," I gave him a withering look. All three of them shook their heads in amazement.

"I read about this. Sometimes it happens after being…" Elodie started to say and Stellan gave her a sharp look that made her stop cold. Then he turned to me and asked in Russian if I was okay.

"_Ek gaan goed_," I answered back, his use of Russian confusing me. Jack and Elodie gave each other a very concerned look and Stellan took a deep breath and asked,

"In Russian or English, please."

It rushed into my head so fast my brain actually hurt. Not the language itself, but hearing Talia speak it to me as if it was English. Understanding something no one else around us had known. Seeing the confusion on their faces. Knowing exactly what Elodie was about to say, and why Stellan had cut her short. That people sometimes gain abilities after they'd been struck by lightning.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the confusion washed over me in wave after wave. How could you have a language zapped into your brain? Especially one so obscure. Wouldn't French have made more sense? And more than that it basically confirmed I'd actually been struck by lightning.

"We have to do this later." Elodie's voice broke through my confusion and I opened my eyes. "We have other issues to deal with."

"So you saw it too?" Stellan asked them both. They nodded.

"What really matters is why?" Elodie snuck a piece of my delicious cheese off my plate and the indignation rose above my confusion. They weren't even going to try and clue me in, were they?

"No, more like why her?" Jack countered and Stellan started shaking his head.

"You're both overreacting."

They all paused to look around us their eyes darting to places I wouldn't have even thought to look, the branch on one of the trees across from us, the lanterns floating around the reflective pool. The anger spiked in my stomach and I pushed my plate away toward the center of the table saying,

"Well, this feels oddly familiar."

"Avery," Stellan said leaning toward me but I took a step back, shaking my head.

"At least it's in English," Elodie mumbled grabbing another piece of my delicious cheese and I almost kicked her under the table. Instead, I grabbed the plate of food, grapes rolling onto the table, and tossed it at the ground. We exchanged a dark look before I growled at them,

"No, no. Go ahead. I see my worth here. Elodie is always right. Jack is always dependable. Stellan never forgets. And I'm always in the way."

"No," Jack replied first on top of Stellans,

"That's not…"

But it was Elodie that leaned toward me and replied in an exasperated tone,

"_Non._ You are our distraction. The shiny purple jewel in the center of our misshapen crown."

"Fredricks," Jack whispered under his breath and turned toward Anya, Elodie following as I steamed with indignation at her leaving form.

"Rebecca, back so soon from holiday?" Stellan supplied as I tried to switch gears.

"And miss what gown you'd be wearing? Absolutely not." Rebecca laughed toward me. I'd been warned about her, the worst gossip in the Circle, I was supposed to avoid her at all costs. She construed every word as some kind of clue toward something.

"Stefania Morland," I managed, but my heart was sinking. Elodie was always right. I was the shiny distraction that was stuck wandering an empty house and folding tights when I didn't have to be shown off.

"South African designer? Well played," Rebecca said eyeing the two of us up with wide, hungry, eyes.

"I suppose I don't feel a need to cater to favorites," I replied with a thin smile, just like I'd rehearsed. Everything I said would always have double meaning now. Especially at events like this. I don't play favorites to designers or Circle members. She nodded, sagely, and Stellan excused us and guided me toward the chapel.

There were a dozen or so people in there dancing already. We hung out in a back corner, very much aware of all the eyes watching us as the dancers made slow circles around the floor. I looked out through the floor to ceiling glass to spot Anya attempting to sink one of the boy's speedboats with her own. It made me smile. The agreement I'd made with her back in London floated up through all my drunken rage. I supposed if I was only useful for one thing I might as well make good on it. I leaned into Stellan and lowly said,

"Anya wants to go to St. Lucia's."

I felt him tense and then suck in an angry breath before replying,

"That's cute. She's going to Kentstone."

I looked around the room again and realized the tactical advantage I'd inadvertently given myself. He couldn't brush me off, we had to stick together, and he had to have known by now my drunk self would cause a scene if he tried to. I ran my fingers down the front of his tux jacket pretending I was fixing it,

"Her choice doesn't have any weight?"

"I picked her school in Russia. I know what I'm doing." He straightened as he countered. I reached up and tugged at his bow tie replying with a smile,

"But we have all of Europe and unlimited money."

"So you think I picked wrong?" He grabbed my left hand and left a kiss on it as he stared down at me, challengingly. I shrugged, entwined our fingers and offered,

"I think you're not utilizing all our assets and her position strategically."

"Look who's been paying attention," he quickly replied, squeezing my fingers between his own.

"I've been known to on occasion," I gave him a petty smile as I squeezed his fingers back as hard as I could. But he looked up and away from me, his face dropping into that Circle smile in such a flash it was a bit dizzying. I turned to see Rebecca Fredrick again - did that woman have no shame?

"Who needs a press release if you two are here. This will be all over Page Six in an hour." She laughed and gestured toward the growing number of cell phone pictures being taken by less than covert Circle members that had filled the space in the small amount of time I'd had my back turned. We both gave her blank smiles and then Stellan took a few steps away from me tugging our still linked hands as he said,

"Dance with me."

He guided us toward the floor, couples parting to make way as we landed close to the center. I doubted that was on accident looking at the whispered conversations all around us. Now in full view of the crowd, he pulled me flush against him, hand sliding down the curve of my waist to rest on my lower back, his thumb circling. I leaned my head against his chest for a few steps, relishing the closeness. I greedily soaked it up, even if it was for the cameras, I could still feel the tension in his arms. When I lifted my head he lowly murmured toward my ear,

"She told you this?" I nodded. He continued, "but not me."

"She can't tell you everything. You're her…"

I stopped. I'd almost said Dad. He pulled back a little, a hint of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth before twirling me around and back into his arms. I settled with a quick scowl and whispered,

"You know what I mean."

"I know that it's complicated. Everything is so complicated." He stopped for a moment, pulling me close again as the music came to a close. I couldn't help but feel like that had double meaning behind it.

The crowd dissolved into polite applause, but we continued to stand there, wrapped in each other. My actual husband and I, surrounded by celebrities and dignitaries, having a parenting conversation about our quasi-daughter during a ball held in our honor, because we were now ruling over a secret society that controlled the world. Complicated could not even begin to cover my life.

"Give her what we didn't get to have," I finally said.

"Which is?"

"A boring childhood."

He squeezed me to his chest and I felt his kiss at the crown of my head. The orchestra started on the next song and I let myself get lost in the movement, too loopy from the wine to really care that I didn't know the steps. We danced for three more songs before I felt myself start to flush, though the dress hid it all quite well. He ran his thumb across my cheek smiling slightly and nodded, moving us off the dance floor. Signaling something to Jack first he then helped me all the way down toward our waiting car.

We sat in silence for a good twenty minutes, just the sound of the road and my increasing huffs of frustration at my uncomfortable outfit filling the space before he looked over at me with a smirk,

"Time to burn your corset?"

I shifted forward, rolling my shoulders and looked at him,

"Then you'd burn the whole dress."

His eyes raked up and down my body, slowly, he shrugged. My laugh broke through all the tension in the car and I rolled down my window, leaned forward, grabbed my thousand dollar pair of shoes off my aching feet and chucked them out the window. His eyes widened as he said,

"The Heedless Heiress goes abroad!"

"You think I care?" I challenged, rolling my window back up and he laughed this time. I reached forward and unraveled his bowtie, "much better."

"I hate bow ties, they always feel like they're strangling me." He rubbed at his neck and popped the first button on his dress shirt.

"What a rough night for you! Only one part of your outfit tormented you. The horror." I joked and reached up into my complicated updo and started pulling out bobby pins, tossing them at the floor of the car. He batted my hands away, grasped my shoulders, turned my back to him and started doing it himself.

"I also had a pebble in my shoe," he said, concentrating on my hair as I laughed. He dug one of the pins out that I was convinced had been stabbed into my skull by Elodie and I let out a groan of relief. He stopped, reached across us to raise the partition and scolded me, "I should be the only one that gets to hear that sound."

I slammed my hands over my mouth, mortified but also elated. Was this happening? Was he actually flirting with me? I flipped around in his arms, my half undone hair spilling around my shoulders and smiled,

"Bet you could do it again."

His kiss was the answer, soft and slow, this perfect pressure that was all at once too much for me to handle and not enough. Never enough, really, I'd always want more. I pressed my hands onto his chest and started unbuttoning, his fingers slid up into my hair and he kept finding bobby pins,

"Focus," I laughed against his lips.

"I am." He kissed back. "I need it all down."

I laughed again and then started kissing down his jaw leaving smudges of red against his skin and stiff collar until he pulled out the final one, tossling my hair. He dug his hands in, guiding my face back up and planted a needy kiss. I readily supplied, melting into him as best I could in this dress and matching his pace. Then, of course, the car stopped and we heard the driver exit, my door opening quickly. Mercifully, the driver stepped away from the car so we could untangle in privacy. I squirmed out of my seat, the dress getting in my way at every attempt until Stellan's hand appeared on my side and he helped pull me out. With a nod toward the driver, I tiptoed across the cold stones in my bare feet as we made our way quickly into the resort.

He was already a couple paces ahead of me when I had to stop and try and gather my dress, the loss of my heels making it too long, all the beadwork catching and dragging on the carpet. It was a useless task, too heavy and slick to keep moving without ruining it. I let out a huff of frustration as the room spun a bit around me, my heart starting to hammer in my chest. He was a couple feet away when he realized I wasn't next to him anymore and turned around a confused quirk across his face. I sank to the ground, the dress spilling around me, catching in all the lowlights of the hallway.

"Leave me!" I laughed, waving him off. He jogged back and offered a hand, but instead of pulling me up he hauled me over his shoulder like a fireman and started down the hall as I let out a woozy laugh.

"That dress is heavy," he said as he opened the first door he found. "Let's get it off you."

"Is this even our room?" I asked arching up to look around a little. He moved through the dark living room into a bedroom and deposited me back onto the ground next to the bed.

"Does it matter? We have the whole resort." He smiled, a real one that lit up his face in the darkness. I immediately started shaking my head.

"No." I reached forward and fumbled with the final few buttons. "No, it doesn't."

He reached behind me and yanked the covers down on the bed, then pulled off his unraveled bowtie throwing it at the ground before giving my dress the once over. It was a little too much for my compromised brain. Between the romantic lighting, the sound of the ocean pulsing through the silence, and the silky sheets against my palms as I leaned against the bed everything started to swirl a little. It was like I was in some ridiculous romcom all my replacement friends loved to make me watch with them.

Stellan ran his fingers down my arms and then with gentle pressure told me, "turn around."

I resisted the urge to flop face down on the comforter. He brushed all my hair off to the side and then let out a little laugh in his chest.

"What?" I asked, looking at him over my shoulder.

"It _is_ like some kind of torture device." He pulled at one of the bows in the center. It didn't budge. He tried another one, then another, muttering something in French under his breath. I hoped it was some kind of curse directed at Elodie. Then there was a rustle behind me as he said, "I have an idea."

"Should I be worried?" I giggled and then bit my tongue to stop myself. It hadn't been that much wine, had it? There was a clicking sound behind me and I turned around again to see what he was doing only to feel a clench of fear in my stomach as the mood lighting caught off the blade of his knife. "Jesus!"

"I'm going to cut them off," he pacified, but I still didn't turn around. "Between the two of us…"

"Right, right," I rolled my eyes and turned back toward the comforter. "I'm terrible at weapons."

I leaned onto my elbows, letting my forehead rest against the bed to give him easier access to the dozen bows he was going to have to cut. He pulled at the lowest one down at the dip of my lower back and with a quiet slice the first release made me slump with relief. I waited for the next slice but instead, I felt his soft lips press against the newly exposed skin and everything on me tensed right back up. The next cut, release, two kisses. I let out a ragged breath this time and he rewarded me with two bows, his lips dragging up my spine, slowly. My breath heaved against the bed, another cut, his breath against my skin before he dusted a kiss that time. Everything started to swirl around me, I pressed my knees into the side of the bed trying to keep myself upright as everything started to feel weak in my limbs. Three bows this time and instead of a kiss he ran his nose along my spine, breathing me in and I whimpered,

"Oh god."

"Hold still," he chuckled and then kissed mid-back before getting back to work, two bows, two kisses.

"Please. Faster." I pleaded. He slid a warm hand up all the exposed skin, pressing me into the bed a little as I squirmed in anticipation.

"This is a sharp knife," he warned, but I could almost hear the smile in his voice.

The hand that had been holding me down slid up to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair as he slid the knife through the final two bows and the dress fell to either side of me. I let out a sigh of relief, I heard him set the knife down on a side table, and then his lips were all over my back again, sliding along my ribs, around my shoulders, up to the back of my neck were he left a little bite and my weak legs tried to buckle under me. I suddenly realized the position I was in, with my ass facing him and I felt a pulse of excitement.

All his patience gone now he helped me up and turned me around in his hands, pulling the dress off my shoulders. It slipped down my body, the heavy fabric hitting the floor with a soft thud. I took in a breath of anticipation, the nerves exploding in the bottom of my stomach making me a little nauseous, but in the next breath his hands reached for my breasts, the pads of his fingers grazing against my raised nipples. He pulled away only to shove his shirt off and unbutton his pants, frantically attempting to kick off his dress shoes as he moved me up the bed toward all the pillows.

My head sunk heavy into the down pillows and I closed my eyes, the room spinning around me. I heard him struggling with his final shoe, a bubble of laughter passed my lips before it turned into a moan when I felt his tongue circle my nipple. I arched toward him, petting his head to encourage more and felt everything start to clench inside me. This was finally, actually, happening. He pulled back for a minute whispering against my breast,

"_Merde_. Can you," he stopped and I cracked open an eye to look at his adorably flustered face, "wait for a minute?"

"Sure," I nodded. He darted off toward the bathroom and hearing his curses and fumbling around cemented for me this was for sure not our room. I let out another bubble of laughter as I relaxed into the bed, sinking deeper and deeper into the silk and silence. Only realizing what was happening until it was too late to stop it and the exhaustion pulled me under into darkness.

* * *

I woke up in Ibiza. It had to be. I was buried in a sea of covers, wrapped in a quiet that was broken only by waves, with warm wandering hands all over my body. My very naked body. _Oh shit_. It flooded back to me in flashes - wine, more wine, shoes out a window, a knife destroying my dress, a very ready Stellan and my blackout depriving us of what I'd been begging him to give me for weeks. His palm slid over my hip on its circuit back up and I shifted, my back to him, to see if he was fully awake yet. I needed to gauge how much time I had to formulate an apology. His hand paused, fingers tapping out a soft quick pattern against my stomach before he stopped his progress and just made small circles against my abs. The hesitation spoke volumes to me. Now that we weren't loopy with fatigue and wine he was worried I wasn't going to let him touch me. My heart expanded in my chest at his chivalry, but honestly, I wanted to laugh more than anything. I was wearing a thong. That was it. If he didn't try something right now I would be very worried. His fingers danced a little pattern on my ribs this time when he hesitated again and I remembered he was always, perfectly, insistent on my permission. I would need to give him some kind of cue.

I stretched along the front of him, running my heels down his shins and shoving my ass directly onto his hard-on. He let out the softest groan and his hand shot up to my breast, palming it as his thumb circled over the nipple. I wasn't expecting it to be so sensitive and sucked in a tiny breath. He gripped me harder, pinching the pebbling peak between his thumb and the outside of his pointer finger this time. I slid my hand over my hip, angling my ass away a little so I could touch him as well. I wasn't the only one wearing just underwear it would seem. My fingers traced over his lowest abs before gliding down his dick straining against the thin cotton. I palmed him, running my hand all the way down and eliciting another groan, this one directly into my neck. He started to massage my breast in this rhythmic pattern that was matching the pulse I could feel in his cock. My eyes opened a little in shock, was he...already there? If heavy petting and a palmful of breast was about to finish him off I had to witness this. Besides I was endlessly curious about what it looked like. Despite our history, I still had yet to actually see it. I'd heard him enough times though - thirty-six to be exact, but who was counting? I flipped over without warning to him and took in a breath of anticipation before sliding my hand into his boxers and pulling him out.

I still couldn't see anything, the room was dark and we were tangled in covers, but when a flash of nerves hit in the pit of my stomach I realized I needed the aid of darkness. It was strange, I'd never felt that way with the few other boys I'd given a handjob. But I supposed that was the difference, those were boys, and we'd both kept all our clothes on. This was Stellan. Everything he'd come to mean in my life made my mouth dry out in anxiety. I started to stroke him, surprised at how hard he felt against my fingers, and he let out a sigh of relief as he rolled onto his back. I followed, sliding across the silky sheets with him adjusting my hand. I couldn't be sure if I was doing it right, there were just so many variables: the covers, how quiet he was being, the fact that he was uncut. I asked in the softest voice,

"Is this?"

I couldn't finish the sentence in my nervousness, but kept my fist moving, up and down, over and over, my thumb swiping the head after every third pump like it was some pattern that could unlock his orgasm. He pushed the duvet back in response and in the dim light of pre-dawn I could faintly detail what I was working with. Without a word, he grabbed my wrist to angling it down more and adjusted my thumb on the underside and then let go. I started slowly at first and he groaned, audibly. It made a tendril of lust bloom from between my hips up toward my sternum. I picked up speed and felt him harden, rigidly, against my hand, his whole body tensing under my touch. I couldn't tear my eyes away from how his whole abdomen clenched, the tendons in his arms flexing as he struggled to hold them still, the strain in his neck, the press of his lips as he stopped all the sounds I was now throbbing to hear. His chin jerked up and he exhaled a long growl and I felt a warm slickness slide down my hand toward my wrist. My eyes shot down, hand freezing in shock, I hadn't expected it to be that fast.

A bolt of lust shot right to my clit, sparking out across the rest of me, mixing with a wave of awe and satisfaction. He continued to thrust up into my fist and I started pumping again, embarrassed I'd stopped when he obviously wasn't done. But then he tapped my hand a couple time and I stopped as he slumped into the bed, everything relaxing on him. I could feel the quick pulse of his heart still beating in my hand and didn't know what to do. We were kind of a mess now and I was too far to reach the Kleenex on my side of the bed. Do I just wipe it on his boxers? I didn't want to do the wrong thing and my panic about it was quickly eased when he let out a long breath and then slapped at the bedside table bringing his own box of Kleenex over. He rested it on his chest, as if too tired to do much more, and I plucked a few out and cleaned myself up as best I could, tossing them toward the trashcan in the corner missing horribly.

With his eyes still closed he smiled, then pulled the covers back up, shifting around under them for a moment. I watched, feeling an eyebrow rise on my forehead, trying to figure out what he was doing in all the darkness when his arm emerged and he tossed his boxers at the ground. My nerves clenched in my chest and I tried to force them back down. I had not been shy about wanting this, and we'd had sex before, there was no reason to be nervous. But I, irrationally, was. I suppose we were different now, and we were always being interrupted, and it had been a long time. I started to feel all the tingles and bolts of lust that had been stoked within me start to dampen and panicked more. Before my brain could spin further out of control he rolled on top, pressing his lips to my forehead and whispered,

"What can I do for you?"

"Oh," I exhaled. I hadn't been expecting that. He moved down my neck, planting long kisses against my fluttering pulse and then telling my collarbones,

"I will do whatever you want." He ran his lips across the sensitive skin, his voice low and gravelly from sleep, "and only what you want."

Just like that, everything started to thrum back through my veins. I let out a long exhale and felt him smile against my shoulder then keep sliding further down the bed, the drag of his five o'clock shadow causing a wave of goosebumps to explode across my skin.

"I...ah…" I struggled to say, my voice small but the need within me growing larger by the second. He tongue swirled around my still hard nipple and I arched into him, whispering, "that's good."

One hand slid into the space I'd created and propped me up, as he sucked my nipple into his mouth and gave a gentle bite that made one hand clench the sheets and the other snap to the back of his head, holding him in place as zaps and flares of desire shot down my body. He shifted on the bed just a little and his other hand slid up my thigh, and I felt a finger hook around the band of my thong and start to pull it down. He released his mouth only so he could ask,

"You want this?"

"Fuck yes," I heaved. He laughed a little and with one solid move yanked them off my body. I started kicking them toward the foot of the bed and then he reset mostly to the side of me. The hand that had pulled my thong off slid up my calf, then behind my knee so he could pull it up and coax it out to the side. His fingers started up my thigh and my whole body tensed in preparation. It made the lust swell low in my belly and I closed my eyes, fist still gripping the sheets as the other was petting the hair at the nape of his neck to encourage him. Right as his fingers were going to brush their intended target he stopped,

"This okay?"

"Always. Yes. Just don't stop." I blurted, half sitting up, my eyes flying open as I glared at him. The sky was starting to light just enough that I could see all the mischief filling his face. I fell back onto all the pillows in exasperation and then his fingertips circled around my clit and I groaned, "Stellan."

"Fuck that's so hot," he growled. "Keep saying my name."

A finger tested my opening, sliding easily along from how ready I was for him. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. His fingers, his tongue, his dick inside me. I didn't care. I just needed to get there. My climax was already building, making my blood pound through my body, my breaths pick up and my hips start moving, helping him tease me.

"Please. I just...I haven't been able to...I need…" Fumbled from my lips as I tried to articulate just how desperate I was, my brain starting to narrow down to base impulses. Then as an afterthought, because he'd demanded it tacked on a breathy, "Stellan."

He stopped, completely. Breath heaving and feeling my blush spreading like wildfire across my chest I propped myself up again to beg him to keep going. But his face was this mix of awe and bewilderment as he asked,

"When was the last time you came?"

"I…" I started to say and then shook my head, breathing hard as I answered, "Ibiza."

"No," he said it as a statement. Then shook his head, "no, no, no."

I opened my mouth to ask him what the hell he meant by that when he pushed the covers off us and raked his eyes down my completely naked body, then slid further down so his face was right at my hip. His thumb made a pass around my clit and I let out a hard breath, my head falling backward as I was still propped up on my elbows. There was another circle around my opening and then I felt the pressure as he pressed his fingers in. Everything started fluttering, the climax deep in my pelvis, my body's hold around his fingers, my triceps as they tried to hold me up on the bed. I let myself fall back onto the sheets and he quietly commanded,

"Relax, Avery," his fingers moving deeper, "let me get to it."

"Get to w…" I dropped off. Everything about him had to be magical. That was the only way my now compromised brain could equate it. Bolts of desire raced from within me down to my toes and up through my fingers. Over and over. His thumb still making circles in between causing this tingling throb to compete with the whole body jolts his fingers were doing. Everything tensing and releasing, again and again, constricting in my chest. The room started to fade away, even his patient, even, commands to keep relaxing muffling out in my brain. My body felt hot, prickling with the beginning of sweat. My toes were curling, my back arching, my hands shaking and searching for his head with my eyes closed.

"Just like that," his voice broke through and I felt his lips right above my pelvic bone, he pressed down and I gasped. It was like he'd created some kind of vortex in my body with that single movement. The battling climaxes on my clit and deep inside me collided together into a single quickly thumping beat. The tingling shocks that were making everything curl and clench in beautiful agony were sucked back to that one spot. Thump. I gasped. Thump. My eyes flew open. Thump. My hand fisted his hair. Thump. White. The world as I knew it ceased to exist.

I'd been sucked through to some other world and it was nothing but wave after wave of ecstasy. I sunk with it, knowing my body was practically lifting off the bed, contorting, but there was nothing I could do. I could hear myself gasping, cursing, building toward this cry I could feel just held back in my chest. I slammed back into my body and felt his fingers brush against the spot again as my body started to elongate. Toes spread, hands sliding up above my head, pushing against the headboard, shaking and crying as he followed me up the bed. Another wave washed through me, this one much more visceral. I felt every pump inside me shoot across every nerve of my body, my toes, my thighs, even my scalp shuddering and shaking. I was in his complete control, his mercy, and every new thump made me blubber out another pleading curse. The line between ecstasy and overload was blurring and I didn't want him to stop, my back arching off the bed as he tried to push me back down.

"All of it, give it all to me." He demanded, pumping a few more times as my body shuddered and then, exhausted, slumped back onto the bed. Covered in sweat, feeling every quick beat of my heart, I sucked in a huge breath and he stopped. He pulled his fingers out and even though it was gently I could feel how sore I was and it made me clench and shudder again. Kissing my hip, my ribs, against my thrumming heart, he left a little bite on my shoulder and I tried to smack him and failed. I was panting and felt like laughing and crying in rapidly oscillating moments, as sleep called out to me in the distance. I was sinking deeper and deeper into the bed, the last few zaps and thumps of my orgasm pinging around my finally sated body when he said,

"Look at me."

I opened my eyes, feeling the tears build in them, not even sure why I was about to cry and he smiled. My heart expanded so big I could feel it touch my soul, everything stirring within it to a crescendo as I croaked out, "Stellan."

"I love you too." His smile broadened out to the one I loved. I didn't know if my soul could take it, this was too much. He kissed my forehead and said, "let's not wait that long again."

I started laughing, tears rolling down my face, as he pulled me to his chest, tucked us back under all the covers, snuggling me as I drifted back to sleep.


	17. Chapter 16

Anya and Jack's laughter is what woke me up the next time. It made me smile despite my eyes still being screwed tight. There was no way I was going to move from this bed. My body was still heavy with relaxation and release, with layers of covers that were the perfect weight to keep me warm. Also, there was a ridiculously sexy man slowly kissing up my exposed leg that had managed to work its way out from under the duvet.

"Now this just isn't fair," he whispered against my thigh, dragging his lips on their journey north.

"I know," I cracked open an eye and stretched, the covers slipping to almost reveal my still bare ass. "Going on a safari is on my bucket list."

He pulled back slightly, giving me a playful look as a hint of color rose on his neck. He started to leave and I darted my hand out from under the covers and pushed the back of his head back toward my hip, smirking as I whispered, "I didn't say stop."

He laughed against the skin and then left a little bite. Anya and Jack started cracking up at something else and with a sigh he straightened, but his eyes were still raking up and down all my exposed skin. I squirmed deeper into the covers both elated at his attention and slightly embarrassed that I was already getting turned on again. How were we ever going to get anything done if he kept looking at me like that?

"Stellan!" Anya yelled through the door. Right - constant distractions and the needs of those around us. That's how we get things done. He shrugged, apologetically, and with a final kiss to my temple, left with the others on their awesome adventure...without me.

* * *

After I'd allowed myself to sulk for an inappropriate amount of time I forced myself out of bed and into the shower. Since I wasn't allowed to do anything today, and I was going to be by myself until after lunch, I found the most comfortable clothes I'd packed. Leggings and a heather gray sweater dress that had an oversized boatneck collar to keep you extra comfy, dark sunglasses to match my black flats ensured I was ready for my day of vacation lounging. I took my mug of coffee with me out onto the balcony and found myself lost down a social media rabbit hole for quite a few hours. After my initial pass at all the tabloid pictures splashed across Page Six and the local newspapers, I allowed myself the indulgence of spying on all my old friends.

I couldn't tell if it was healthy or not. But ever since I'd left the hospital I'd find myself hunting down mundane information about them as opulent, ridiculous things were happening around me. Was it to compare? Ground myself? Ensure this wasn't all lucid dreaming? I didn't know. What I did know was that everyone was gearing up for their senior year of high school while I was drinking expensive coffee in an empty resort in South Africa. Which then made me wonder if we'd need to go back to school shopping for Anya for St. Lucia's when we made it back to London. Or was that just part of the ridiculous cost of going there? That's when I'd stopped myself and locked my phone. I was worried about back to school shopping for my quasi-daughter when I didn't even have a GED. This was getting way too weird, and I wanted as close to a normal day as I could get. I grabbed my cup and made my way out to the pool.

It didn't even take five minutes before an attendant appeared with a glass of fruit infused water and a stack of magazines. He informed me of the lunch offerings today, took my order and left me to my reading. I think at one point I actually fell asleep on the lounger as I let the wind and waves and bird calls fool me into relaxing. As soon as he set my lunch down I heard another set of footsteps moving toward me and looked over the back of my lounger unable to hide my shock,

"Elodie?"

"Don't look so surprised," she intoned.

"Why you and not Jack?"

"Why not me?" She rose an eyebrow and sat on the lounger next to me, settling herself and then sweeping her bangs out of her eyes.

"That's not what I meant," I drawled at her. "I just know the agreement Jack and Stellan made. I thought he'd be the one here."

"Well, considering this resort is crawling with Saxon security, they figured I was worthy of the task." She shrugged and pulled out a cigarette and lighter from the pocket of her dark blue sweater. "As long as you don't leave you're safe."

She paused as she lit it and took the first hit, the plume of smoke blowing away from me, and I sensed there was something more. I prodded, "and?"

"And nothing," she answered, making herself busy by ashing it into my discarded cup of coffee.

"Are you afraid of getting a little dirty?" I teased, she frowned at me and turned to look out at the horizon. I left it there and kept flipping through my magazines as she took another deep hit off her cigarette. As she huffed out her plume this time, however, she started shaking her head as she added,

"Jackie loves elephants. It's stupid. They're smelly and boring. But I thought I'd give him this."

"Careful Elodie," I teased, "people might think you like him."

Her narrowed eyes shot daggers at me and I started laughing, picked up my artfully arranged salad and took a few bites as a breeze rustled the trees around us. She broke up my lunch by asking,

"Did you finish the packet?"

"I haven't had time," I lied. Elodie sucked the rest of her cigarette down to the filter, making the silence between us stretch. For a moment I got that horrible feeling I used to get in class. That one where you know you are wrong and the teacher is about to shame you in front of everyone and your stomach starts to drop out as everything fades to white noise. But instead, she shrugged and exhaled her giant plume as she said,

"Fine. If that's your choice."

"What's that's supposed to mean?" I quickly countered.

"I'm the one that manages your calendar." She slowly turned her head and rose a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me as the frown pulled at the corners of her mouth.

A flush of embarrassment at being caught in my lie made me suck in an indignant breath and snap, "but not my free time."

Elodie flicked the butt of her cigarette once, the ash caught in the breeze and blew all over me, marking up my black leggings with streaks of grey.

"There are many ways to rule, Your Majesty." She gave me a tight smile, tossing her butt into my coffee mug.

"Elodie cut the 'Your Majesty' shit. You know I hate it," I said, clenching my teeth.

"Well, if you want to keep acting like a _princess _then I feel the title fits," she gave me a challenging stare, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm not a…" I ground out but she cut over me.

"Do you know how the Dauphins train their staff to learn all this information?"

"You know I don't," I snapped, an unease starting to fill me, there was no way this was going to be a heartwarming story.

"You have a week to learn a packet of information. Then you are quizzed on it. And they hook your hands up to an electric current. With each incorrect question the voltage goes up until the end of the test."

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped.

"Good thing Stellan and I are both very smart. It didn't hurt too badly. Can't say the same for some of the other staff though. You lose the feeling at the tip of your fingers eventually." She shrugged. "Or they just kill you."

"And I'm a princess because I'm not learning this fast enough?" I ventured, pulling the neckline of my sweater up around myself in agitation.

"No," she sized me up with her disapproving glare and stood, looking down at me. "You're a princess because you keep relying on your _prince_ to solve everything for you."

There was nothing I could say. She was right. This wasn't some ancient Circle mandate, or transcribing something into another language - it was something I'd known since I was seven. In the end, the only person you can really rely on is yourself. Seeing the realization on my face she nodded and then turned and left.

I could practically feel my mother's disapproving frown from wherever she was watching me from. It made a sharp ache fill my chest and I felt the tears start to well in my eyes behind the sunglasses as I watched the groundskeepers weed the flower beds along the edge of the property. My mood shifted even darker, the grief attempting to boil through all the containment I'd been keeping it under. I needed to distract myself. I blinked back the tears and forced a couple more bites of salad into my mouth. It wasn't working. Mercifully my phone buzzed next to me and I practically dove for it.

_I'm so sorry! _

_I'm not going to be able to break from shooting this week. _

_Will you be staying longer?_

Colette. My mood plummeted. So much for text distractions. I didn't even bother with a reply. I set my lunch back down on the table and leaned back on my lounger staring up at the brilliantly blue sky as I felt the tears build in my chest. I should probably go hide in a room. There was something inherently pathetic about openly crying in public. Obviously leaving the bed this morning had been a huge mistake.

My phone buzzed several times in a row. I glanced over at it wondering who would have so much to say when clearly I did nothing of importance. It was Luc.

_Where are the rest of the pictures?_

_Why does Page 6 know more than me?_

_What could possibly be so taxing you're ignoring me?_

It actually made me smile, despite my misery. I pushed my sunglasses up into my hair, wiping at my face before I slid them back down and grabbed my phone. Opening it up I saw it was a group text they'd created just between the three of us, Colette's apology being the first set. There was already a bubble of more texts coming and I felt my smile grow.

The next addition was a picture Luc sent of me giving Stellan a mischievous look as he smirked at me during the auction. It was followed with,

_Aisha Rajesh sent me this. _

_You two need to tone it down. _

_This is disgustingly adorable._

I laughed, the sound echoing a bit in the now empty grounds. Colette's texts were next,

_I've had to hide in my trailer all morning. _

_Everyone is bombarding me. _

_You two had more press than my last movie opening. _

Then Luc immediately in reply,

_I know! _

_It's so unfair. _

_And the dress was magnificent. _

_Oh it was absolutely gorgeous. _

_I'm so proud of you!_

_Look how far you've come!_

Colette's praise made my breath catch in my throat and I felt like I was going to cry for an entirely different reason now.

_Thank you. _

_You're the first person to tell me that. _

_You'd think they would have been a little more supportive. _

Luc sent a laughing gif followed with,

_Well they wouldn't, would they? _

_It was a job, you did it, everyone lived._

_Nothing to celebrate._

I rolled my eyes, I guess that was the obvious reason. But how hard was it to openly support each other? They'd done it at the Circle meeting. Then again I'd surprised them all by what I'd done at that meeting. So maybe you only deserved praise if you rose above expectation? Colette added,

_Sometimes it's hard for them to break out of Keeper mode. _

_Don't be too angry. _

_No shit_, I thought. And then wondered if I should bring up the fact that I'd shocked them all right out of Keeper mode when I'd started speaking Afrikaans. But then decided against it. Revealing that would start way too many questions that even I didn't have answers to yet. Colette continued with,

_It was basically a Leap Year Ball. _

_The Kohnings were practically daring your doubters not to show. _

_And you were absolutely perfect. _

What the hell was a Leap Year Ball? And what doubters? The Family's we hadn't swayed yet? Like Stellan was trying to tell me on the plane? Did anyone actually not show? I couldn't remember. Then with a huff of disappointment, I realized that was because I hadn't been paying attention to something like that, I'd just thrown back two glasses of wine on an empty stomach. Luc's reply buzzed me out of my reflection,

_I can't believe you got Stellan to smile in public._

_Is it true he had the biggest bid of the night?_

_He did! _

_We bought Elodie this ugly painting she was freaking out over._

_9 million dollars and she still can't turn the bitch setting down toward me._

Luc and Colette both sent me long lines of laughter, back and forth. With Luc finally adding,

_But that means she DOES like you. _

_If you had a dick she'd be fucking you. _

_There is nothing more terrifying than Elodie being nice. _

Maybe he had a point. If Elodie only liked herself, perhaps her continued attempts to teach me and her patience despite how slow it was going was actually an indication that she did like me. Who was I kidding? She tolerated me. But that was better than her being fake nice and secretly plotting my death.

Luc and Colette both told me they had to go, but demanded more pictures as the trip progressed. I told them I would and then looked around at the grounds again. With a sigh, I abandoned my pretty salad and delicious fruit infusion water and made my way back into the hotel. I'd lost my appetite and should, at the very least, finish the packet. Whacking at the remaining streaks of ash on my leggings I started toward the lobby of the resort when I heard a building noise. It was the low murmuring sound of a large group of people, which was impossible because this place was supposed to be empty.

I rounded the corner into the wine gallery and stopped. Looking through the elaborate spiral sculpture that housed their renowned wine collection was a group of over twenty people milling about in the converted dining area. It appeared to be some kind of art show with local textiles and jewelry mixing with small pieces of sculpture and paintings. Beside each piece were a small plaque and a white box with a slit in the top. Deciding I really didn't need to be drug into another fundraiser, and knowing I should go ask Elodie why it was even here in the first place, I started to move past it all. Only to almost run into a waiter that was bringing another round of red wine out to the group. I slid into the dining area to get out of his way and accidentally bumped into someone.

"Sorry," I muttered moved back toward my escape when she sighed loudly and asked,

"Do you have any idea how to do these silent auctions?"

"Wouldn't know," I answered and pushed my sunglasses up into my hair so I could take a closer look at the box next to us. "I don't think I've ever been to a silent auction."

"Honestly, I'm not all that interested. But I can't come back empty handed." The girl replied and then scribbled something down on the paper next to the box and shoved it through the slot. She couldn't have been that much older than me, with long, thick, dark hair that spilled down her back in envious ringlets. I couldn't quite place her accent, but the boho sleeves on her olive green peasant dress and her casual shrug as she glared at the art reminded me so much of Laura from Lakehaven I instantly relaxed.

"Why are keychains and magnets not acceptable gifts anymore?" I laughed.

"Exactly!" She turned to me and smiled brightly. "Why does it always have to be the best? Or the most expensive?"

"Status I suppose," I smiled back.

She reached up with both hands to pull her heavy hair off her neck and my heart thudded into my stomach. There on the underside of her wrist was a crescent moon with a filled in star inside the empty space. Circle. Meleck Circle. _Of course_. I scanned the room realizing it was probably filled with Circle people, even if I didn't recognize a single face. Why do I continue to be so fucking stupid? This is exactly what Elodie was talking about. Stellan would have instantly known.

In the next moment I was angry they were here at all. This place was supposed to be empty of Circle people for the explicit purpose of making a line between us. She noticed my silence, and my eyes glaring at her wrist, and her face dropped into terror.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered moving closer so she didn't raise her voice. "I didn't mean to...please don't be angry. You weren't even supposed to be here."

From behind us, I heard a small gasp and then Talia Konings whispering voice as she moved toward us, "Your Majesty. I apologize. I was told you were going on the safari today."

"_Verandering van planne_," I angrily answered and saw the shock ripple across the Meleck girl's face. It spiked my anger further - would I ever be able to tell when I was speaking another fucking language? Talia hadn't even been speaking in Afrikaans - at least that much I'd started piecing together of my hidden talent.

I watched as people stopped trying to be polite and instead were openly whispering to their neighbors about the scene unfolding. Talia gestured widely toward the lobby, ushering the three of us away from the group. As soon as we were out of earshot the girl took a step toward me that I quickly countered, moving back and crossing my arms over my chest. She ducked her head, noting the space and pleaded,

"I am so sorry. I know I overstepped my bounds. Please don't take this out on Talia. She's been a wonderful friend to me. I don't want this to reflect poorly on her or her Family."

That was new. A Circle member with a conscious? I glanced at Talia for a moment and then screamed in my head - _English, English, English!_

"I don't remember meeting you when I was in Israel," I said to the girl.

"Well, you wouldn't have I'm sixth in line," she quickly answered.

"And?" I snapped, not knowing why that was important.

The girl let out this hollow sounding laugh and answered, "my uncle doesn't consider me high enough to be seen. I would have never been able to meet you if the Konings' hadn't thrown this event. That's why a lot of us are here. To lay eyes on you."

I tightened my arms across my chest and frowned at them both. That was the whole point of keeping the Circle away from us - so we didn't turn into some kind of circus sideshow. Is that what Colette had meant about this being a Leap Year Ball? The only time the entire Circle is allowed to show, rather than heads of the Family's? My stretching silence made both of them start nervously fidgeting until Talia couldn't seem to hold back the string of apologies that started pouring from her mouth. I glanced away from her, down the hall, trying not to get sucked into her panic. When I looked back over at the Meleck girl I realized she was completely lost. Talia must have been telling me all this in Afrikaans. That wasn't exactly a fact I needed the whole Circle to know. I had to get out of here. I took another step back and away from them when the Melek girl broke through Talia's monologue,

"I just wanted to thank you. I'm not sure how much stock I put in mandates that were written thousands of years ago. But I do believe in what you've already done. I believe in what you could bring to the Circle, the change we've been waiting for - the hope of a better future through unity."

_Okay_, I said to myself and took another step back. I hadn't realized my usual run of the mill Circle savior persona had a meta version that upgraded to actual savior. I put my hands up toward both of them to get them to stop when I felt someone grab my elbow and dig their fingers in,

"Your Majesty," Elodie growled, to my immediate right. I dropped my hands and she let go, then shifted to stand in front of me. She reached back and gave my stomach a little push and I turned and started to walk back toward the rooms as Elodie brightly chirped to the two girls,

"This is a surprise. We'll have to talk about this later."

I stopped the shiver that wanted to slide down my spine. Elodie being nice _was_ terrifying. I stopped myself from all-out sprinting down the hall away from her. Not that it mattered, she would have caught up in a few strides. As we left the lobby she started berating me in these quick snaps of French until she could rip open the first suite door she could find and ushered me inside. I don't think she even stopped to breath before she growled,

"What part of stay in the hotel are you not understanding? Even Anya understands that."

"I did," I cracked back, not appreciating being compared to a seven-year-old. "Unless we're hallucinating and this is the safari."

Elodie glowered at me and took a steaming breath before asking, "do you know who that girl was?"

"She's a Meleck." I practically answered over her. She jerked, seemingly surprised I'd managed to figure something out and nodded at me, but it didn't make me feel better. Not when she was widening her stance and crossing her arms like she was about to lecture me,

"Exactly. The same Family that tried to attack us at the British Museum and usurp you at the Circle meeting."

"Usurp?!" I cut in. "And I thought that was a stress test, not an attack."

She closed her eyes tight for a moment, her lips pulling in to a single thin line on her face, and her shoulders rolling inward as if she was trying very hard not to release all the obvious disdain building within herself. My dangerous broken brain anger reaction started to percolate through my control as well. This was not going to be pretty. I glared at her even as she opened her eyes back up and carefully explained like I was seven,

"Anything done _to_ you is an attack. Anything done _for_ you is suspicious. Anything done _with_ you is suspect."

"How am I supposed to know that?" I tried to answer just as calmly but the final word came out too harshly and made me unable to stop my shout of, "no one tells me these things!"

Her hands flew out from their hold and she sliced them through the air toward me as she screamed, "use your fucking brain!"

"Don't you scream at me!" I yelled back at her, my own hands releasing so I could jab a finger toward her in warning.

"Don't give me a reason to!" She shouted. The volume of her voice grew with each furious step toward me as she steamed, "you could have been kidnapped. You could have been poisoned. You could have signed over all your rights to some fucking Meleck spy."

My own crescendoing anger caught and stalled for a moment. Elodie was worried about me? We both took a breath to start again when the door slammed open, Stellan and Jack barreling in with their hands on their weapons.

"What the hell is going on?" Stellan demanded, eyes darting around the room and then between us. Wonderful, so there was also going to be a floor show for this humiliation? Elodie swung toward him, pointing at me in the process when I spat out before she could,

"_Sy is 'n teef!_"

Stellan and Jack both jerked, their eyes widening, as Jack muttered,

"It is so bizarre to see it come out of your mouth."

_Of. Fucking. Course._ My anger tipped over into no man's land and I flung my hands over my face to try and muffle the scream of frustration that ripped out of my throat. Dropping my hands I looked directly into Stellan's now very worried eyes and ground out,

"She," I stopped and waited for him to nod in confirmation that it was English, "is berating me for doing exactly what you asked me to do! Make nice with Circle suck-ups and stay in the hotel."

"Not at the same time!" Elodie yelled, unfazed by lapse of sanity. "Only with people we tell you to."

"You didn't tell me that part!" I screamed back, flinging my arms wide. Jack and Stellan gave each other a very quick glance before sizing the two of us up again. That seemed to insight Elodie to a point I'd never seen before. She stormed across the carpet toward Stellan, stopping just short of jabbing him in the chest with her accusatory finger as she snarled,

"This is getting ridiculous! Today was far too dangerous. How much longer are you going to keep her in the dark? She thinks this is just some fucking prom! You can't keep her your idiot American teenage bride for much longer without compromising everything."

I was ready to tackle her to the ground when my arm let off a dangerous spike of pain and Stellan pointed to the door behind him seething,

"Get the fuck out of this room."

"What?" Jack and Elodie shouted at the same time but I grabbed my arm and immediately snapped my mouth shut. He rose to his full height and said in a smooth and dangerous sounding tone,

"You do not get to keep blurring this line. Either you work for us or with us. If she is just your employer she should Terminate you for being so insubordinate." He glared at her for a beat and then finished, "and if you can finally bring yourself to realize you are a part of this fucked up family we've made you will never speak that way about my wife ever again."

He jutted his finger at the door and she stormed out, Jack quick behind her.

Stellan kept trying to breathe down his rage as I massaged my aching arm. There was too much to interpret here, I felt dizzy from the complexity. I didn't want Elodie to be screaming at me, but I also didn't need Stellan to swoop in like that. I'd thought we were a family, or at the very least still the team we'd always been. I'd assumed that all the 'Majesty' jabs were in jest, I'd thought we'd moved past that in Egypt when I'd taken the letter from her. And why was he so angry in the first place? It wasn't his fight, and I wasn't in immediate danger. Honestly, just how overbearing could Stellan possibly get if he was jumping down _Elodie's_ throat for being mad at me? Finally - he'd called me his wife, and I was, but it had still felt so weird with everyone in the room. The pain in my arm finally relented and we both exhaled at the same time. He turned to me,

"What happened?"

There was no fucking way I was letting him glance right over this accusation. "Was she right? Are you keeping me in the dark?" I demanded.

"Can we get to that next?" He pacified, rising both palms up to me, "I will answer that I just need to know what happened so I can decide if I'm sending Elodie away."

"You can't send her away," I spat at him, giving him a dirty look.

"You're right. She knows too much. But maybe Luc can take her for a bit," he contemplated, looking back at the door.

"She's not a goddamn object Stellan!" I yelled at him. He whipped his head back around, eyes wide with surprise. "She is part of our family. She may hate me but I want to protect her. I want her to stay."

He was already shaking his head, "she doesn't hate you, Avery."

"Right," I gave him a withering look. "It doesn't matter. She's important to you and Jack and Anya. This isn't my first time dealing with a mean girl."

"She would have sent you away if it was the opposite," he countered.

"I'm not her," I punctuated back. "And you set us both up to fail. She is only doing her job and if you don't give me all the information I need she can't do it well."

He ducked his head to his chest and I pressed on, "she's right. I could have been compromised in so many ways because I didn't know. She's the only one at least attempting to get me up to speed here. So all your possessive anger is bit much. Tell me right now what are you hiding and why you are keeping me in the dark."

He took a few steps over to the couch and collapsed onto it, dust particles filling the air. Then he rubbed at his face and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes before exhaling and sitting back up. I was still waiting, stone-faced. He licked his lips and nodded,

"Two reasons. One, Jack and I want the Circle to think you're stupid. We want them to think you're dazzled by these parties and ready to be friends with everyone like an idiot American would." He held up a finger to stop my indignant outburst, "sorry - but it's true. You're not a good actor, _Kuklachka_. It's better if it comes from a genuine place. Elodie has never agreed with us, but it's the right move and it makes you more believable, thus tricking the Circle further and further into our trap."

"Which is?" I demanded.

"Spying," he frowned. "We've been sending out Order spies at all these events we attend to gather intel on all the heads of the Families, their heirs and which way they'll sway when we start to actually flex our power."

"Okay," I walked over to him and sat on the arm of the couch so we could face each other. He ran a hand through his hair and then continued,

"Any person that approaches you is a clue. Anything they tell you can be used. Anything they offer you or say can be analyzed. But there is danger in that too. Which is why it's better if one of us is with you or around you when this happens."

"That Melek girl was giving me major Circle savior vibes," I interjected. "She said we're the change they've been waiting for. Something about unity. What does that mean?"

"So many things," he sighed and leaned back, scrubbing at his face again. I slumped against the top of the couch and then remembered,

"You said two things."

"Oh," he said through his hands and then sat up to give me a tentative smile. It was almost sheepish and I felt my curiosity peek as I sat back up. "The more you know the more Circle you'll become. And I love you - just as you are right now. It's selfish of me. But I just wanted to hold onto that a little bit longer."

"I...oh...wow." I stuttered, my mouth shutting down in shock. He stood abruptly, his neck going red and muttered,

"I'm going to check on Anya. We left her in another room to follow the fighting."

"Wait," I tugged at the back of his shirt, dust from the safari wafting up to sparkle in the late afternoon sunlight filling the room. He turned around and I launched myself onto my toes to plant a big kiss on his lips. He pulled me to him, lifting me off the ground to deepen it and then deposited me back down both of us breaking to breathe.

"That's a good reason," I whispered. "I want that too. But maybe we should find some middle ground."

He leaned forward to rest his forehead onto my own for a beat and then smiled and turned to leave. As he opened the door, however, he pulled up short and then scowled. Immediately, I heard Elodie's voice, thick with tears,

"Please, just let me explain."

"Save your breath," he gruffly cut over her and then pushed into the hallway finishing with, "you're lucky Avery is a better person than me."

I heard him stomp off down the hall as Elodie sucked in a shaky breath. Then she took a few steps and landed worried eyes on mine. My arms instantly crossed over my chest, reflexively. It wasn't that I was mad anymore, it was just that I always felt like I had to be a bit on the defensive with her. Even tearful and solemn she could still be dangerous. She gave me a tentative look and lowly asked,

"You'll let me stay?"

I nodded. "Only if you want to, Elodie."

She swallowed hard and then nodded back before turning to go. I couldn't let her leave like that. I wasn't Stellan. Whatever was going on between the two of them was their business. But Elodie and I were continuing to build toward friendship. She was only my frenemy 70% of the time now. Her leaving, for any reason other than her own volition, was something I never wanted.

"You owe me nothing," I said to her leaving form and she stopped and turned back toward me, her red ringed eyes taking me in. I dropped my arms and leaned against the couch, "but you should probably work on your insults. I had worse in Junior High."

She didn't smile, but her frown pulled up into a thin line as she slunk away.

* * *

My one day of approved outside events was starting out pretty fucking bleak.

We'd avoided each other the rest of yesterday, even though that felt very counterproductive to me. We should have been talking - at the very least - about what had happened at the surprise silent auction. But I hadn't seen Jack or Elodie again, and every time I'd attempted to ask Stellan he was barking orders into his phone in Greek at people. So, Anya and I wandered around the hotel with a team of Saxon security tailing us. We had the bartender at the Bar Roc mix us non-alcoholic drinks, we raided the guest pantry, we observed the local art in their studio and tried to find something to read in the library. Anything to kill some time until dinner. It was actually pretty fun and her rambling stories about the safari were adorable.

This morning, however, I'd woken up alone, ate breakfast alone, and for the life of me could not figure out how to get my giant infinity scarf to lay correctly for my outfit. It was also proving to be incredibly hard to find anyone since I had no idea what rooms everyone had ended up in last night. We were set to leave in fifteen minutes and I was starting to get nervous that they were going to cancel on me. But I was prepared to pull rank if I needed to. Besides, being stuck in a car together would force all the awkwardness away. I was always pissed at my mother for having to move us abruptly. The first few hours of every trip was just my indignant silence. Yet I'd always end up talking and joking and laughing with her in the end. Something about long car rides did that to you, and it was going to take an hour to get to Boulder Beach.

I checked my phone again to see if maybe I'd missed a call or email that would explain their continued absence this morning and slumped with defeat. I had. I skimmed the overly apologetic email from the Konings' and their plea to meet so they could make this right in person. Perfect. That's probably why everyone had vanished, they were canceling my plans so we could watch the Konings' grovel. My stomach soured at the thought of it and I made my way out into the hallway for all the rooms so I could yell out,

"Stellan!" I walked past the first few rooms and startled as the door to my right flung open.

"_Kuklachka_?"

I held up my phone so he could see the email. He reached forward and pulled me into the room, closing the door.

"So what are we doing?" I cut right to the chase.

"Jack already took care of it. We're going to accept their apology gift of the painting for free," he answered, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"That kind of defeats the purpose of fundraising if the highest price is voided," I replied and gave him a long look.

He shrugged, "beats the hell out of dead daughter."

I stiffened, as my eyes shot open with shock at how cavalier he was being. "We weren't going to do that," I snapped back.

"No," he looked down at his hotel slippers and then met my eyes to add, "but they don't need to know that."

Our phones buzzed simultaneously and we both checked them to see the reminder to leave in ten minutes. I took in his flannel pajama bottoms and loose fitting shirt and sighed,

"You aren't even ready."

"You don't find me irresistible in hotel slippers?" He smirked, I glowered at him. He rolled his eyes and opened the door back up, "ten minutes."

"You are the vainest person I know," I said to his leaving back. He held up a finger in the air and threw out over his shoulder,

"Nope. His name is Luc."

"Five minutes!" I ordered and then looked up and down the hall. If he wasn't ready that probably meant none of them were. I needed to find Anya. Opening door after door I heard voices in the final room of the hall and slid in.

"I'm the one that heard you fighting first." That was Anya and I stopped my sigh of disappointment at her admission.

"You shouldn't have heard that." Elodie firmly replied. I leaned against the wall so I could inch closer to their conversation without being seen.

"You are too mean to her," Anya admonished and I turned the corner to see them in the formal dining room, both of their backs to me. Anya was in one of the dining room chairs and Elodie was standing behind her, pulling out the hair bands at the end of Anya's messy braids.

"No, I am not!" Elodie huffed, carefully untangling one of Anya's braids and raking her fingers through her fine hair.

"Everyone says it," Anya confirmed, her voice holding a tone of superiority to it.

"And who is everyone - Avery?" Elodie pushed.

"No," she spun around and Elodie lost the braid. I pulled back a little so they wouldn't see me. Elodie didn't say a word, just started the braid over as Anya went back into position, "she never says anything mean about you."

"Tell me their names, _Annichka_," Elodie ordered playfully tugging on the bottom of her hair. Anya squirmed but then laughed as she answered,

"Colette and sometimes Stellan."

There was a long pause as Elodie slid her fingers through Anya's hair a couple times, then finally started braiding again as she quietly started,

"I came to the Circle when I was a little girl. Even smaller than you. And do you know the story they would tell us all at bedtime?"

"No."

I leaned closer, surprised that Anya knew anything about the Circle at all. But I supposed there was no way around that. She had to have heard us talking about it, and despite wanting to shield her from as much of this as possible, she did need to know at least a little bit. But it made me wonder just how much, and who had told her.

"The story of the violet-eyed girl and the fireproof boy that would save us all from the end of the world," Elodie answered dramatically.

"No they did not," Anya blurted.

"Every night. And I wanted to be that girl so badly I wished I'd wake up with violet eyes." Elodie finished off the braid and then carefully undid the other, brushing her fingers through to the ends. "Then one day she appeared, at my own house even. And not even a month later I found out your brother was the fireproof boy."

"And you escaped to Italy to follow them," She turned to smile at her and Elodie, anticipating it, followed, not losing the braid this time.

"I did. It was nothing like the stories." She finished off the braid and squeezed her shoulders. "That's why they're just stories."

Anya turned around to face her, and I slid back again so I couldn't be seen, "but it made even better stories! Ancient kings. Hidden tombs. Castles and fancy balls and true love."

"You're right," Elodie laughed a little in her reply. "Perhaps we are writing an even better story."

"That's why you stayed with us, right?" Anya stood up and I slid back around the corner to watch her pull on her jacket.

"I stayed because I love your brother. I would do anything for him. He's my best friend." Elodie answered and I felt my heart start beating harder in my chest.

"But you don't love Avery, and that's why you're mean to her?" Anya guessed.

"I don't know Avery. But that's not why I'm mean to her." Elodie answered reaching forward to do up all the toggles on her bright red peacoat.

"See!" Anya jumped back and pointed at her. "I knew it!"

Elodie crossed her arms over her chest. "I am mean to her because I am jealous of her purple eyes and stealing my best friend from me."

"She didn't steal him. He still loves you just the same," Anya reprimanded her in a very sure tone. Then added, "she is good, Elodie. You need to be nice."

"I know," she replied, but she didn't sound so sure. "That's another reason I'm mean. She takes good care of both of you. Better than I did. And I just don't know how to be nice anymore." Elodie paused and then as if sensing the heaviness of her comment leaned forward and darted her fingers for Anya's neck. She let out a shriek of laughter and squirmed away from her hands, giggling as she said,

"You must try. You have to try as hard as she is."

"For you, _Annichka_, I will." Elodie smiled at her and I started moving toward the door, losing sight of them.

"I think your coat is in the bedroom," Anya said and her feet started thudding away from me into the suite.

I'd heard enough, my heart heavy and my excitement gone. I made my way out to the lobby to wait for everyone to finish up. Unable to shake the image of a six-year-old Elodie glaring at the brown eyes reflecting back at her in the Dauphin dorms.

* * *

The awkwardness that permeated the car was having no effect on Anya. Jack and Elodie had piled into the back, Anya between them, with Stellan and I in the middle row of the tank-sized SUV that was making its way toward Bo Kaap. She was forcing everyone to tell them their favorite color so we could find the appropriate colored house to take a picture in front of it. Since it was her everyone was obliging, if only in one-word replies. But, Elodie and Stellan we're pretending the other didn't exist and Jack just kept frowning as he eyed the two of them.

I could only assume part of this had to do with their history with each other. If the few details I knew about the aftermath of all that was true the comment he made yesterday seemed twice as petty now. Since all this seemed to center around me I wasn't sure if jumping into the middle of it was going to make it worse or better. Maybe forcing everyone to be together wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Stellan?" Anya asked again, exasperated.

"Sorry," he locked his phone and turned to her, "it's green."

My face quirked into confusion and I looked over at him but he was already back on his phone. This was getting ridiculous. I texted him,

_Why would you lie about that?_

_Or did you lie to me?_

His reply was immediate,

_You're the only person that gets to know all my secrets._

_Favorite colors aren't really a secret. _

_Can you please dial back your Henry the 8th vibe today...Your Majesty. _

He shot me a dirty look and stabbed his reply onto his screen,

_He killed all his WIVES. _

_You're not the person I want to murder today. _

The car slowed to park and I replied back,

_First off he didn't kill them all. _

_How do I know more European history than you?_

_Second, stop being a buzzkill. _

He locked his phone and jumped out of the car first, offering me a hand and then sliding his arm around my waist keeping me close to him. As everyone else piled out of the car the closeness made me relax a little. Until I saw Elodie's tiny frown in our direction and the realization washed over me. He'd said it so many times before this - he couldn't trust anyone but himself to protect me. He was being a dick on purpose now. My anger spiked and I pushed his hand away giving him a warning glare as I hissed,

"I mean it."

I stomped off to catch up with Jack instead, the two of us watching Elodie being drug around by Anya to house after house.

"Trouble in paradise?" Jack lowly asked and I punched him in the arm, though the effect was lost due to his heavy peacoat.

"He's pissing me off," I grumbled back.

"You are a trouble magnet. We tried to warn her." Jack offered, his voice light as we both stopped to watch Anya push Elodie up against the bright red wall of one of the houses and then scramble backward, pulling out her phone so she could take a picture.

"I am…" I started to rebuke but then stopped. "Hmmm."

"Exactly," Jack chuckled next to me. "They are both too stubborn. That's always been their problem."

We stopped as Anya came running toward us. She grabbed Jack's hand and started yanking him away, pointing toward the cobalt blue house just up the street. He shrugged at me before allowing her to lead him, Elodie pulling up to Anya's other side and attempting to slow her down a bit.

I felt Stellan's presence behind me before he closed the space and rested his chin on the top of my head. I tried to shake him off but he wrapped both his arms around me and pulled me to his chest, squeezing me tight through both our heavy jackets.

"Okay _lyubov' moya_," he said, his chin messing up my hair as he nodded. "I'll try for you."

"There's nothing to try," I huffed and turned around in his hold, looking up at him. "She's your best friend. I've spent my whole life wishing for something you're willing to cast aside with frightening ease."

"I'm not," he said, shaking his head. I pushed against his chest until his hold broke and gave him a defiant look.

"Then start acting like it."

I turned to go and he grabbed the pocket on my coat and pulled me to stop. His other hand slid across my cheek, fingers threading through my hair as he pulled me toward him and pressed a kiss to my lips, quick and chaste.

"You are making me into a better man. You know that don't you?" He asked, looking deep into my eyes and I felt flutters of nervousness buzz through my body.

I hadn't, which meant the expectation I had of him had never matched his own. The murky parts of his past that I still didn't know were probably what he meant, not fighting with Elodie. But I'd never thought of him as less than in anything, mostly because he'd never failed me. We were stumbling through this together, lifting and leaning on each other - like Elodie had pointed out what felt like a lifetime ago on Colette's patio. If holding him accountable made him better, I'd take that win.

I leaned forward to rest my head on his jacket and nodded a few times. His fingers unraveled from my hair so he could cradle the back of my head and pull me flush against him. This time I snuggled deeper into his hold to hide from the cool, damp wind that was whipping up the street, breathing him in. He started to shake a little with a low laugh and then murmured to me,

"We're in trouble now."

I heard Anya's call up to us and turned my head enough to see her running back up the street with a beleaguered Jack and Elodie close behind.

"Avery!" She shouted and pointed to the buildings to our immediate left. "Look! Yellow!"

Stellan turned us in that direction and a wicked smile pulled across my face. Immediately next to the yellow house was an orange one. I slid my freezing fingers down the length of his jacket and slipped them up under all the layers he was wearing to grab onto the belt on his jeans, pressing the tops of my fingers against his always warm skin.

"_Merde_," he swore and dropped me as he tried to back away. But I held on and tugged him with me toward the houses, calling out to Anya,

"Well, isn't that serendipitous."

"Sere-what?" She asked, finishing her jog over and giving me a quizzical look. Her cheeks were bright red from all her exertion in this cold, with little flyaways escaping from her braids to frame her face. She was absolutely adorable. It needed to be documented.

"Let's take a picture together. All three of us," I offered. She gave me a toothy grin and then paused to say to Stellan,

"But your favorite color is green."

"He can stand on the orange side," I pacified. She looked between the two of us and then jumped back as she pointed at him,

"I knew you were lying!"

"How?" He challenged her while attempting to squirm away from my still cold fingers. I started tugging him toward the walls, Jack and Elodie moving back up the street with the rest of our security detail.

"All your bags were always orange on the inside. Not black like the outside." She said and nodded a few times as if this confirmed everything. He laughed in response and pried my hands off him in the same moment. Rising a hand over his head he called out,

"El?"

Anya and I turned to see her face switch from miserable to shocked to suspicious all within a second. But she strode over and waited, her eyes not looking directly at him. He slid between Anya and me to hold out his phone to her,

"Could you take our picture, please?"

Anya ran off toward the houses and I watched as Elodie tried to take the phone from him but he held on tight. She looked up at him and I quickly turned and walked away. I really wanted to stay, but it wasn't my place. Instead, I positioned myself on my yellow wall and pulled Anya to stand in front of me as we watched Stellan and Elodie say a few more words to each other. With a tiny smile, she finally had the phone in her hand and Stellan jogged over to us.

"I can't wait to put these up in my room," Anya sighed, wistfully, in front of me and I grinned and then glanced over at Stellan to see him already looking at me, my favorite beautiful smile across his face.


	18. Chapter 17

"Gin," Elodie said carefully laying down her hand on the table between us. I let out an indignant huff, I wasn't even close.

"Are you sure you taught me the right way to play this?" I questioned, gathering the cards to shuffle them and giving her a suspicious look.

"That implies I am trying to sabotage you," she demurely answered. Next to us, curled up in a bucket seat, Anya let out a giggle and peeked at us over the top of her book.

I shuffled the cards again, looking directly at Anya until she slid her book back up and then passed the deck to Elodie and replied,

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"_Non_," Elodie immediately retorted, dealing out our next hand, "if I'd been trying to sabotage you I wouldn't have slipped you that knife in your jail cell."

Anya's book immediately dropped, her eyes wide with shock and I shot a warning look at Elodie. She just picked up her cards and, without even looking at her, gave Anya a little flick of her hand, as if to say get back to reading. I smiled down at my cards, grateful that we were all edging back toward normal. Stellan and Jack were already planning all the meetings we were going to be ushered to upon return. Once Anya fell asleep during the flight home were we going to have a debrief together.

In an attempt to smooth my way back toward the status quo, I had finished not only my WWII packet but my Cold War packet from Elodie. Hence the start of our gin game since we had close to eight hours to kill. I discarded a three of clubs and looked to my left out the window at the darkening clouds. We'd been told our departure time meant we'd miss the big storm that was brewing but the sky still seemed pretty ominous to me. As if I'd willed it just by observation the plane hit a jarring pocket of turbulence. Our cards started slipping to the floor, Anya let out a little meep from her seat and Elodie and I both grabbed our armrests and met eyes over the table.

"Attention everyone," came the crisp British accent through the plane, "please fasten your seatbelts at this time. We are going to attempt to get around the storm. We will advise when it becomes safe to move about the cabin again."

The three clicks were almost simultaneous in our area. I tried to restack the cards as the glasses rattled in the bar behind us and gave Anya a brave smile. Behind her, the clouds were suddenly illuminated with blinding lightning and the plane fuzzed out around me. My vision blurred, all I could hear was white noise and my right hand instinctively wrapped around my left bicep like a vice. The pain crescendoed through the shock so viciously that I crumbled the cards in my left hand as I nearly screamed out between my clenched teeth,

"Jesus Fucking Christ!"

I knew that Elodie and Anya were reacting around me but it was as if everything was moving in slow motion. The fingers on my left hand splayed outward, dropping the ruined cards, and I struggled to take in a breath as the blood roared in my ears. I blinked and Elodie was in front of me, demanding something I couldn't hear. The pain broke, just enough to breathe and I let my head fall to the table with a loud thump, trying to pull in another breath through the panic.

"What is wrong?!" Elodie's voice frantically demanded and the pain ebbed to manageable. I closed my eyes to take in a deep breath and then unclipped my seatbelt and stood. The plane jerked around us, my hip slammed into the table, Elodie put a hand on my shoulder, commanding me to sit. But I only had one thought. _Stellan_.

I shook her off and stumbled down the aisle of the plane toward the front where Jack and Stellan had been planning together. Jack looked up at me with terrified eyes and I ignored him too. The plane bounced around and I hit my knees in the aisle, gripping my arm again as the pain started to swell in my scaring. My forehead dropped to Stellan's knee and I begged him through my teeth,

"Stellan calm down."

"Is this from the…" Jack started to ask behind me. I didn't even bother to turn around, I ground out over his question,

"Go the fuck away."

Jack booked it up the aisle behind me, his voice mixing with Elodie's near the back of the plane and I forced myself to sit back up and look at Stellan. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, his face ashen making the bright red flushing on his cheeks seem that much more alarming. He was starting to sweat and I could see the muscles, through his thin sweater, bulging as he kept them viced around his chest.

The plane shuddered again with turbulence, the lights flickering for a second, and I knelt there, panting, trying to figure out what to do. His laptop was quickly sliding away from us under the seats and there was a sharp acrylic smell in the air. The lightning crackled again through the clouds outside, beautiful and terrible at the same moment. Stellan squeezed his eyes shut and I forced myself to stand. I slid past him and collapsed into the seat to his left. Grabbing my own scar out of desperation I put my forehead on his shoulder this time and lowly reassured,

"It's going to be fine."

He let out a grunt of pain in response right as the plane dipped to the right, attempting to move away from the lightning storm. The pain instantly relented and we both started panting from the exertion. I heaved through my efforts,

"Please don't tell me you're afraid of lightning."

He leaned his head onto the top of my own, his skin clammy and whispered,

"I'm afraid of being a lightning rod and bringing this plane down."

"Why would you even think that? Does it feel different?" I instantly whispered back, my breath finally starting to calm.

"I don't know," he huffed and then moved his head back onto his headrest, his breaths far too fast and shallow to be anything but the beginning of hyperventilation. "But I can't breathe...I'm going to have a panic attack."

"No, you're not," I commanded him. He nodded and then winced as another wave of pain lanced through us both. I slowly let out my held breath and then started tugging his sweater off, tossing it at the ground and pressing my pointer finger right into the center of the sunburst.

* * *

Everything hurt. There was not a muscle on my body that wasn't screaming with fatigue. I couldn't feel the tips of my fingers anymore they were so raw from tracing over the fabric of his shirt for hours. My lungs burned from all the held breaths as I'd tried to stop the steady stream of cursing.

We hadn't even been in the flight path of the storm for more than an hour but the damage was done. Stellan couldn't fight off the panic attack and he couldn't let it happen either. We didn't know what would happen if he did. So we spent the entire eight hours suffering through it together in that terrible limbo. Every time he'd be able to calm down enough to give us a break I almost started sobbing in relief. He was so wrapped up in his own brain that anything I tried to distract him with didn't work. Even attempting to sleep was useless. He wasn't going to even try and I wasn't going to leave him. So whenever the exhaustion would be too much I'd put my head in his lap for twenty-minute stints until my arm would jerk me awake again.

And he kept apologizing, in every language, in pained whispers, near tears with his shaking hands. I didn't know what more to do, and Jack and Elodie were staying far away from us after my warning. I could hear them urging Anya to stay with them and then brainstorming in French, but even they couldn't seem to find a solution. Because there really were only two option, let whatever he was trying to hold back explode, or pistol whip him into unconsciousness. But even that solution could possibly create the first result, we just couldn't risk it.

Once the plane had landed he'd let out a miserable sigh and the pain disappeared. The two of us sat there with our face in our hands, sniffling and shaking as the plane taxied. He'd passed out against me in the car, his head digging into my shoulder and pressing me against the door, with three sets of worried eyes watching every breath we took. I'd tugged him behind me through the house with our entwined fingers as we stumbled toward our final destination. All I wanted was that awful, gaudy, bed and to sleep forever. I could see our door and the relief almost made me start crying. That was until Jack cleared his throat behind me.

"I was hoping we could go over the plans for tomorrow."

I stopped, Stellan almost walking into the back of me, and hung my head as I exhaled loudly. The next sentence Jack was gearing up to say died in his throat as a strangled noise and I felt Stellan try to turn toward him. I gave him a hard tug, pulling him past me and then let go of his hand to shove him forward. He kept dragging himself toward the door and I slowly turned around to face down Jack. He at least had the decency to look sorry.

"No. He's exhausted. I'm exhausted," I said and stretched out my painfully stiff arm. I winced and let out this stuttered breath as I tried to touch my scar but couldn't because it was still too tender.

"But the first meeting tomorrow is at 9AM," he carefully explained, his eyes sweeping up and down my body like he was gauging me for a threat level. Big mistake.

"If you say one more thing I'm going to junk punch you," I growled at him. "Fuck that meeting. Reschedule it. That's an order."

He nodded, taking my threat to heart, and pulled out his phone as he turned to go. I staggered the final few feet toward our room, opened the door, and ran right into Stellan's back. I leaned against him as I asked,

"Why are you just standing here?"

"Did you do this?" His gravelly voice asked and the realization hit me. South Africa. I'd told Gemma to redo the room while we were in South Africa.

I lifted my head and took a step to my left to look around him. The room had been completely gutted, unrecognizable from what we'd first arrived to. All the ancient furniture was gone. The heavy wallpaper and crown molding had been removed and replaced with deep grey walls that were instantly calming. The wood floors had been refinished in a much darker stain, which made the taupe colored area rug and floor to ceiling blackout curtains pop in the space. Then there was the bed, and it was obviously meant to be the focal point of the room, just like I'd asked her to. It was situated in the center of the accent wall, which was one giant piece of abstract art in what looked like woven raw cotton or linen dyed in browns, greys and pearl tones. The platform for the bed was the same color as the wood floors, the padded headboard and bedding were off-white and perfectly arranged like a magazine spread. There were other pieces of furniture artfully arranged around the remaining space but I only had eyes for that bed and the final touch I saw peeking out from under the duvet. I glanced over at Stellan as he continued to examine the room as well.

"Yeah," I crossed my arms over my chest, nervous, and quietly answered, "it was supposed to be a surprise."

"It's perfect," he exhaled and I looked over to see a smile spreading across his face for the first time in almost eighteen hours.

"You haven't seen the best part," I smirked and limped toward the bed, pulling back the comforter in a flourish to reveal the exotic looking red-orange of the vermilion shaded sheets. I smoothed my hand across the ridiculously high thread count as I heard him cross the room and stand behind me.

"What do you think?" I asked.

Instead of an answer I heard a thud and startled, flipping around half expecting to see him passed out on the floor. But he was kneeling behind me and pulled me to him saying so low I almost didn't hear it,

"Don't leave me."

"I...won't…" I slowly replied, a little confused.

He leaned heavier into me, rubbing his face against the fabric of my shirt. He squeezed me and then let out a rumbling whine of, "owww."

"Are you going to be okay?" I tentatively asked, running my fingers through his messed up hair.

"I'm in so much pain," he groaned into my belly.

"I know," I frowned and dug my fingers into his scalp as I made another pass. He melted further into me with a sigh.

"You're so beautiful," he said, kissing my stomach over and over.

"Oh, Stellan," I sighed. Delirious, he was delirious with exhaustion. I pulled at the back of his t-shirt until it started to come up and off his body.

"I love you so much," he continued to worship my stomach with longer and harder kisses. I backed up from him a little so I could unbutton his pants and start shoving them down toward the new rug.

"Into the bed," I commanded, sidestepping his next round of kisses. He crawled up onto the sheets and rolled until he was on his back.

"You're so wonderful," he told the room as I yanked off his boots and skinny jeans.

"Sleep," I scolded him as I threw the covers over his boxers briefs and black socks. He closed his eyes with relief, exhaling and sinking further into the mattress. When he stilled I turned to go and his hot hand darted out and grabbed my wrist.

Gazing down at his exhausted face he took a few breaths and then opened his eyes. Despite the awkward angle and my growing concern for his mental stability I still felt myself get a little swoony as he stared unwaveringly into my eyes.

"You're too good for me," he plainly said.

"Doubtful." I laughed, nervous and feeling instantly shy about how honest he was being in his compromised state.

"I'm being serious," he squeezed my wrist a little to emphasize.

I leaned down and kissed his forehead gently, "so am I."

He reached his other hand up to cup the back of my head and keep my lips on his forehead. I kissed him again and then he tugged me down onto the bed next to him. With a grunt of pain, he shifted himself to the side so I'd have room to lay down and then turned so we were facing each other. For a minute we just looked at each other, relieved and exhausted, and then he reached forward and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear his focus shifting to my mouth as he quietly said,

"You are the only person that has ever given me my deepest desire."

"Orange sheets?" I whispered and felt my heart expand in my chest as the brilliant blue of his eyes met mine again.

"That," he smiled, "and someone to take care of me for once."

I buried my face in his neck and he leaned forward to pull me even closer, our bodies flush against each other. Legs tangling, breaths slowing, he kissed my hair and passed out. A moment later so did I, with my shoes still on and the midday sun pouring through the windows in our brand new room.

* * *

St. Lucia's School for Girls was an institution in Europe. Any family trying to show wealth and power sent their daughters there, including the Circle. But it wasn't controlled by the Circle. Which was why we'd decided to attack this from my public Saxon side instead of flexing our 13th Family power. I'd pulled every string I had to get Anya in - three days before the school year started. Families put their daughters on wait lists to attend when they were still in utero. I'd had our whole group, even Gemma, harass everyone we could until we secured a personal call with the headmistress.

I'd tantalized her with vague details of the 'terrorist' attack I'd survived and how it had doubled my resolve to send my new 'step-daughter' to a secure location. I'd even thrown in how important it was for the Saxon legacy at St. Lucia's to continue since I wouldn't be able to attend myself. And then, to secure the deal, I offered to fund the new arts and music wing of the school. Press, prestige, and cash seemed to be the trifecta of coercion to win her over. It'd made me question our decision to send her there in the first place, but Stellan and I had promised Anya, and she was openly crying as she'd squeezed us both in thanks.

We'd pushed all our meetings out for the morning of her first day, the five of us piling into the car together. Her wardrobe was in the trunk and her brand new backpack, a $2,000 black and grey plaid Burberry bag that made me question my taste in Jansport, laid across her lap as she bounced in the seat between Stellan and I. Her excitement was making everyone smile and I was dying to make a Harry Potter joke - but I knew it would fall flat in this car. She was wearing a uniform! She had a trunk of clothes! It was September 1st! She was only missing an owl. I shook my head, forcing myself not to say anything and silently vowing to make Stellan at least watch the movies with me.

The car slowed as we approached the massive gated and guarded driveway to get to the school. Outside the walls the media circus was already in full force, the flashes dulled against all our darkly tinted windows. Anya leaned forward trying to get a good look at the campus as we crunched up the gravel path to the top. Jack leaned forward to look as well and then told her,

"Make sure you avoid the girls' bathroom on the third floor."

For a second I wondered if he was being serious, and then Anya stuck her tongue out at him and sassed back,

"And stay out of the restricted section of the library."

My mouth dropped open and I sucked in an indignant breath as I lamented,

"You mean I've been wasting all my stellar Harry Potter jokes on this guy?" I smacked Stellan's arm.

"Sorry," Anya laughed at me and then grinned at Jack.

"They take your citizenship away if you don't read them by age 9." He answered looking dead serious until Elodie smacked his arm and he cracked a giant grin.

"They were good too," I shook my head, making her laugh further when the car stopped.

Around us, families in similarly dark tinted Land Rovers and Mercedes were directing their daughters toward the front. We all exited and I felt their attention snap toward us, their eyes giving a sweep, with whispers exchanged between parents and nannies. Word traveled fast I guessed, or maybe it was the four deep security detail that was closing rank around us that was the flag. That had been Elodie's idea. We were leaving an Order member at school with Anya, not unheard of considering some of the girls attending here, but the extra show of force at drop off was entirely for the Circle. She'd explained to me that most of the time we liked to keep all our extra security hidden, but at something casual like this it was good to remind them just how much we had.

Roberts pulled Anya's wardrobe out of the trunk and handed it over to her appointed St. Lucia's bodyguard, Stephen, and our giant group started toward the front of the school. I looked around the imposing entryway for a moment and my stomach dropped out, my palms started sweating and I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth - first day nerves. I'd had that exact feeling on every first day at every new school every year. I watched the small clusters of girls moving through the front doors, their plaid skirts swishing with the motion and suppressed the shudder.

Catholic school was Florida to me. 13, miserable, friendless, and forced to wear an itchy skirt every day because my mom didn't trust the public school enough. It was a hot, sticky, bug filled and tear fueled year that I knew both my Mom and myself were glad to leave behind us. A group of older girls passed me and all my anxiety clenched in the pit of my stomach. This was a combination primary and secondary school, which meant there would be the American equivalent of Seniors here. I was a Senior.

But as I looked down at my designer dress, red bottomed shoes and my gigantic diamond ring, I felt as far away from a High School Senior as you could get. Further still, watching the girls lug book bags filled to the brim and eye each other and myself with suspicious giggles seemed behind me now. Anya tightened the strap on her bag and then turned around and smiled at us,

"Bye everyone!"

From my peripheral vision, I saw all of us stiffen in response to her cavalier attitude.

"Don't you want us to walk you in?" I asked. She was already shaking her head,

"No, thank you. See you in December!"

She turned, her hair swinging around her shoulders and looked up toward Stephen as he instructed her which way to go. They turned left inside the solid oak double doors and that was it. She was gone and I felt completely jipped of what I assumed would be our tearful goodbye moment.

Jack let out a contemplative noise and then threw out, "I suppose she _has_ always done this by herself."

We all nodded in agreement, continuing to watch the door as more girls and their parents flooded through as if maybe she'd come barreling back out any minute now and give us all a huge hug. Instead, Roberts cleared his throat and lowly said to me,

"Whenever you're ready Ma'am."

I looked up at Stellan, who had remained stoically silent through all this, and he gave a terse nod. We all turned and headed back to the car, the church bells ringing out across the campus behind us. I looked back one more time but she wasn't there and my heart weighed down in my chest with sadness. The feeling swept over me as we pulled away from the driveway and started back down the gravel path. Maybe Stellan had been right about sending her to the local private day school, at least she'd be home every night. But it wouldn't have been fair to Anya. We had uprooted her entire life in Russia and she'd never once complained. This was the only thing she'd ever asked us for, and she seemed so confident and self-assured walking into the building - it was the right choice.

I glanced around our silent car, expecting to see everyone already on their phones but they were all looking out windows. We sat in that misery for a good twenty minutes, Stellan looking the most upset, and I didn't know if I should comfort him or not. He'd been a bit off the last three days. He wasn't sleeping well, he was still wincing with certain movements and we'd all needed to start asking him questions twice he was so often distracted by his own thoughts. Jack and Elodie had pulled back on their usual onslaught of information and demands, noting the change in him. They'd even taken to quietly asking me how he was feeling at all hours of the day before they'd approach him, and I'd always give them the same exasperated look in return. He wasn't Waterford crystal for Christ sakes. We'd obviously gone through a very traumatizing experience but that was par for the course with our group.

He slid his hand into the empty seat between us, palm up, as he continued to stare out the window and I took it, threading our fingers and giving him a squeeze. My phone buzzed in my lap for the Order meeting we had in an hour and I looked up expectantly thinking this would be the point Jack and Elodie launched into their usual taskmaster drill down. But they ignored it.

It was the perfect opportunity to get a bit ahead of the day. We didn't have to code our conversations or have them in French or even sugarcoat the details. Anya being gone had allowed us the opportunity to transform back to the well-oiled machine we'd been before her arrival. Yet, looking around the car at the three of them I realized we hadn't made that jump because we couldn't go back to who we'd been - we were all different now. Not only because of what we'd all survived, collectively and individually, but also because of Anya herself. She'd brought out parts of us we'd had to bury to circumnavigate this ugly world we were controlling. I didn't want to lose that.

The car slowed as it pulled up to the gate at Riberton and I sighed, loudly, startling them all from their thoughts and said,

"I had to a fund a five million dollar wing that damn school clearly doesn't need to get her there and she couldn't even look back at us?"

Jack started to silently laugh to himself and looked over giving me a smile as he added,

"She made me find every single one of those awful toys of hers so she could bring them. It took me hours."

Elodie was next crossing her arms over her chest as she huffed,

"Accessories. Every single piece of jewelry Colette and Luc ever bought her had to be organized. Because it is the only way to show individuality at that place."

We all turned to look at Stellan, the car already parked in front. He smiled, for the first time this morning, and then finally said,

"She made me a thank you card." He pulled it out from his inner jacket pocket, just for a flash of a moment, purple and sparkly, and we all groaned at him.

"Not fair." I shook my head as my door opened. "Not fair at all."

* * *

I was only about two sentences in on the debrief when I had to stop. I wasn't expecting it to be so...graphic. But I didn't look up from the paper, that would have been a dead giveaway. Even though it was a room full of Order members I had to keep my composure. While we were still in South Africa it had been decided that I should start attending the Order debriefings back in London. Today marked the first one and while I appreciated finally being included I hadn't been ready to read about the ways we were torturing information out of the monsters in our basement.

The words blurred out on the page as I waited trying to figure out the right kind of reaction when my arm caught fire. The pain exploded in my scar so acutely and unexpectedly that I couldn't stop the small noise of pain that I desperately tried to keep from bursting past my pressed lips. I pushed my arm against my side as my world darkened around the edges for a moment. Forcing myself to put the paper down I darted my eyes at Stellan as everyone continued to read in silence. He was stark white, with bright red spots of red flushing his cheeks, eyes glassy as he frantically shook out his left fist. Just like the plane. This was bad. This was very bad.

He pushed the paper away with a scowl and abruptly stood walking away from us all toward his desk as he continued to shake out his fists. My arm throbbed, feeling three sizes bigger than it was, and I squeezed my eyes shut trying to stop myself from crying out. When I opened them back up Jack was staring at me his eye huge and terrified. I took a quick scan of the room and noticed that everyone else had the same look on their face. Yet no one was moving. And in that split second, I realized it was because they wanted to see it - their prophecy fulfilled, even if it was the last thing they saw. The most important people from the Order were in this room and they had secretly been managing this organization for generations waiting for this exact moment. They weren't going to leave unless Stellan told them to, and there was no way he'd be able to manage that in his current state. They sure as shit weren't going to listen to me, as they'd proven on several occasions already. I forced myself to stand, I had to calm him down.

Jack's eyes followed me his head shaking ever so slightly as I moved toward Stellan. I stood to his left and waited, not wanting to startle him. Behind us I could hear people shuffling papers, pretending to read. He let out a shaky breath, as he turned toward me, his eyes shot to my scar and it happened.

He clenched his left fist and a little string of white escaped to quickly circle around his hand and then around his wrist, snaking toward his fingers and sparking against the ring as it grew in size. It let out a small snapping sound, like when you'd get shocked on a door handle, and as he exhaled this pulse of electricity shot through the air making all the hairs on my arms stand up on edge. All the screens - the muted TV running the news in the corner, everyone's laptops and phones - all went instantly black with a buzzing thud.

Stellan and I slumped with relief at the exact same moment, the excruciating pressure of this power lessening to bearable after that pulse. I closed the space between us and he immediately stepped back from me,

"No, don't. It's dangerous," he whispered toward me, but I ignored him. I moved closer so I could whisper so low they couldn't hear,

"What was it? What made you slip?"

"Slip?" He asked and I pressed my hand over his heart to try and calm him down.

It shot from the depths of my broken memory so fast I felt dizzy. This felt like deja vu. But it wasn't, because the room dissolved around me and I was suddenly standing in a dark room that I knew was deep underground. My hand was on his chest, trying to calm him down because he was glowing. The scars were glowing and his skin was almost too hot to touch.

Stellan's warm hand wrapped around my wrist and I was shot back to myself. I looked up into his waiting face and slowly said,

"I remember something. I remember you being hot."

He stared at me, incredulously, but that was all I could manage. The memory settling into its rightful place was making my brain freak out. I'd blink and I'd be back in the tomb, then I'd blink again and be back to normal. Stellan's fingers tightened around my wrist, protectively, and I looked over to see every pair of eyes in the room watching us with rapt attention, even Jack. The sharp acrylic smell I'd noticed on the plane was permeating the room now and I put together it was because Stellan had just fried every piece of electronics in here.

"We're done," he barked at everyone, startling them out of their rapture. "And Jack, _ne la laisse pas voir ça._ Understood?"

"_Oui_," Jack immediately replied and quickly snatched the papers off the table as the room cleared. Stellan pressed my hand harder into his chest and then let me go, rubbing his hands over his exhausted face.

"It was about my Mom, wasn't it? I couldn't read past the second line," I ventured a guess. That would probably be the only reason he wouldn't want me to read something I was supposed to know.

"You made the right choice in Egypt," he answered and leaned heavily against his desk.

"You just fried all the phones and computers in this room. Can we talk about it now?" I moved to stand in front of him and rubbed at my still aching arm.

He glanced at the door and I knew what he was going to try and do. He didn't think any place would ever be safe to talk about this. He didn't want all remaining ears in our 'safe' house to hear this because he only trusted me with this information. But we had to talk about it now. I had to take the option to skirt around this again away from him. I strode over toward the intercom and tested it,

"Gemma?"

"Ma'am?" Her voice crackled back.

"We seem to be having technical difficulties in here. Cancel our calendars for today," I ordered, looking directly at Stellan. He frowned at me but didn't say anything.

"Right away Ma'am," she answered and I wasted no time. I clipped back toward the desk, grabbed his hand and started dragging him through the halls, into our room, then into my side of the walk-in closet, all the way to the back with the hidden couch.

"A bit excessive," he grumbled as he drug his fingers across all the couture.

"Talk," I demanded and sat on the settee, patting the empty seat next to me. He glanced at it and then turned back toward the clothes, tugging out a dress that was nothing but silver metallic sequins to examine it with a raised eyebrow. I felt my exasperation at his coyness build and opted for the blunt approach.

"It's going to get expensive if we have to keep replacing all the electronics in this house every time you're mad. Let alone planes."

He dropped the dress and gave me a warning look, "don't joke about that."

"You think I'm joking?" I cracked back.

"Then why even say it?" He crossed his arms over his chest and squared off against me.

"Because you won't talk about this, and now you've made it my problem to solve." I calmly replied, crossing my legs and giving him a waiting look. We weren't leaving this closet until I decided we were done. Instead of some kind of snarky remark or avoidance technique he sat next to me on the couch and leaned his head back against the wall, his long legs unfolding out in front of us.

"Okay," he quietly conceded.

I was shocked into silence for a moment. I'd been ready to fight him inch for inch but for him to just roll over wasn't part of my strategy. It made me feel like it was a trap until he grabbed my left hand and gently squeezed my ring finger just above his diamond. I took in a quick breath realizing the reason with that small gesture. No secrets. I decided to ease into it.

"Jack told me how he figured it out. In the hospital. You were sedated? The painkillers couldn't help you? How much pain are you in? You left that part out."

He gave me an apologetic look, "it's not all the time."

"Stellan," I warned.

"My body just burns up the drugs," he quickly explained.

"How?"

"I always have a fever now. 103. But I feel normal," he started and then turned to me, sliding his hand along the back of the couch. "When I was in the ER in Egypt it spiked to 106 or 107 and everyone freaked out. They thought I had Hyperpyrexia. They put me in cold baths and pumped me full of fluids and drugs. But they didn't have to. Do you know how awful it is to be forced into an ice bath when you don't need to be in one?"

"So constant fever, constant pain, what else?" I turned to him as well, resting my arm over his own and wrapping my hand around his forearm.

"I didn't say constant," he carefully answered and I squeezed his arm in confusion.

"But your scars always hurt."

"Not anymore," he clarified and a hint of a smile started to pull at the corner of his mouth. I felt my own drop open with shock. "Do you know how I figured it out?"

I shook my head and he leaned closer to me, dropping his voice even though we were the only people in this small space. My fingers gripped his arm tighter in anticipation and he flashed a quick smile at me before he said,

"You. You make me happy, which makes me relax. I was too much of a mess to notice it at first, everything was so intense for so long. But they don't hurt right now. They only hurt when…" he trailed off.

"That's incredible!" I gushed. "Maybe it's part of your magic skin? Or maybe it, like, reworked all your nerves? This could mean so much! When you piece all of this together - the possibilities of what you have at your fingertips. I mean...Stellan this changed your whole life!" I babbled and smiled broadly at him. He gave me a tight smile and a little nod, leaning away again and all my bubbling happiness flattened as he looked away from me out into the dresses.

"It did. They couldn't get my fever to break, but I made them discharge me in Egypt so I could be with you. That day...I was still in my hospital gown, with this itchy blanket wrapped around me, watching a machine breathe for you. Our attending from the ER came into the room while I was there. I wanted to thank him, for all he did for you when I couldn't. The very first thing he said to me was that he didn't want any trouble."

My heart plummeted toward my stomach and I held my breath as he slid his arm out from under my own and leaned forward onto his knees, elbows propping up his head as he looked out toward the entrance of the closet.

"And I realized that everyone - everyone - the Order guards, Samarah's Circle guards, the Egyptian army, the doctors, the nurses, even Jack and Elodie...they weren't treating me like some hero. I wasn't the victor the mandate made it seem like I'd be. They were all afraid of me - because I'm a villain."

"You're not," I automatically corrected even before the thought was fully formed in my mind. He barreled on like he hadn't heard me.

"There is always a price for power, and you never know the full amount until it's too late. I've even roped you into all this mess. Every time it swells inside me you can feel it too. I never wanted that for you. That's not something a hero would do."

"You're not a villain," I tried again. He shook his head and I sighed at all his brooding. "You're being stupid."

"Excuse me?" He twisted his torso so he could give me an incredulous look. I gave him one back. How could he not have figured this out yet?

"Clearly, you haven't read any comic books."

"Do I look like someone that reads comic books?" He snapped and then forced himself back to his brooding position. I held back the snort of laughter I wanted to give and carefully explained,

"You're at the denial phase of your powers. All superheroes have a phase of gaining their powers where they rebuke them, try to get rid of them, don't want the responsibility of them. But in the end, they realize they were destined to have them and accept their fate."

"Wouldn't a villain go through the same process?" He retorted.

"Maybe," I hedged, "but only if you're a fan of the DC universe."

He shook his head, confused, and then sat back up and shifted his whole body, tucking his right leg under his left knee so he could face me completely and reprimanded me with, "I was not destined to terrify my best friends with a power I can't even control."

"Yet," I clarified. He tried to say something else but I held up a hand. "We will figure it out, Stellan. Consider yourself lucky. I don't think I was supposed to survive that tomb."

"Don't say that," he quickly countered, his eyes narrowing a bit in warning. I nodded, acknowledging how touchy a subject I knew it was and continued,

"The mandate didn't mean union through marriage. If we've learned anything from adding myself to all this madness it's been that the Circle has been getting it wrong for a long time. If you really read that mandate the only thing I was meant to be was the key to unlock all your potential. This had nothing to do with the Circle, it was meant to destroy the Circle. I was supposed to be disposable."

"You are not," he firmly shot in.

"I know," I soothed and reached forward to cup his cheek in my palm. "So don't waste this by freaking out about things you can't help."

He leaned into my hand a little and let out a miserable huff before he said, "most days I just try to forget I even have it. That's not really heroic now is it?"

"Denial phase," I retorted and gave his cheek a few quick pats before I let it go. He narrowed his eyes at me, put his arm on the back of the sofa again so he could prop his head up and drawled,

"Now what, huh? What's the next step then?"

"You need to figure out exactly what triggers it, and how big it can get. Like can you summon lightning from the sky? Can you arc it to hit multiple things at once? Can you control those EMPs or is it random? Can they make a spandex leotard in your size?" I quickly listed and relished the way his eyes widened with shock at the last one. He recovered quickly enough though and deadpanned back,

"Funny."

"We just need to figure it out." I pacified and grabbed his left hand in my own. "One step at a time. We're already like six steps in. We know you have it, it turns on when you're experiencing negative emotions, it's linked to me, it causes us spectacular pain, you can kill all electronics in a room, and sometimes little balls of lightning...spark...around your...hands."

Despite the turn toward happy we'd been taking my stream of consciousness made us both stiffen with unease. But I didn't let his hand go, instead, I just held it tighter. We both took a couple breaths in silence as all that washed over us. The first time we'd heard it out loud. The absolute absurdity that all the blood and gunfire over the past few months had led to this.

His hand softened in my own and something started tapping at the back of my mind. This murky sort of question I'd been forming for the past few weeks slowly started to ascend to the surface the longer I held onto his hand. I had a flash of Jack's small head shake, it was the same one I'd seen on the plane. The way the two of them had been acting after Stellan's episode on the plane wasn't something new either, they'd acted that way toward him on my first day at Riberton. But they'd never been allowed at the hospital. And he had just said he didn't want his best friends to be terrified of him. How could they have been unless...I dropped his hand.

"This has already happened before, hasn't it?"

"Avery," he begged, his eyes going wide with worry.

"That's why you know it's dangerous," I leaned away from him. "That's why Jack and Elodie are scared of you."

"I…" he started and stopped, the panic clear across his face. The sinking realization made my whole body go numb.

"That's why I can speak Afrikaans, isn't it?" I demanded. "You were the lightning strike. Not the tomb."

He put his hands over his face, bowing forward toward his legs and I felt my scar start to tingle a bit with his obvious building anxiety.

"When? Was I still alive? Or dead?" My voice started shaking. "Did you kill me?"

"I don't know," he said through his hands and I pushed him back up to sitting.

"How could you not know?"

He sucked in a deep breath looking up at the ceiling, his mouth opening and closing and I couldn't take the obvious edits he was trying to make to this memory.

"Say every word in your brain right now," I demanded.

"The doctors said the defibrillator at the hotel saved you. But there wasn't one." He offered his hands toward me, palms up and shaking just the tiniest bit. "But I don't know what killed you in the first place. We never will."

"Because you blacked out?" I clarified. He nodded and closed his eyes as he took in another anticipatory breath and continued,

"I wanted to die. Not just because of the pain. You were dead and I wanted to die with you. I couldn't bear the thought of what I might have done, or what I'd have to do alone. And as I drug myself across the floor and touched you...my hands…" he sucked in a shaky breath as we both looked down at them. I grabbed them and pressed them to my chest right over my heart.

"We lived."

"But," he started to say. I brought them up to my mouth and kissed them.

"We lived."

"Why are you the only one that comes toward me when it's bad?" He wondered aloud, his eyes searching my face for the answer before I could reply.

"Because you'd never hurt me." I kissed them again. "I trust you. I love you. I will be here for you in sickness and health. Rich and poor. Good and bad."

"Until death parts us again?" He finished.

I hadn't really meant to recite wedding vows to him, but I meant every single word of them. I smiled at his anxious swallow and firmly replied, "yes."

He relaxed, slumping against the back of the couch, even with me still holding onto his hands in my lap. My scar tingled again and I felt the nerves bubble up as his eyes zeroed in on the diamond on my finger. He slowly asked, "what do you want from this marriage?"

My turn. Fair was fair after all. Even though my instinct was to drop his hands so I could put some space between us as I formulated my answer I forced myself not to. He'd just revealed some of the darkest, hardest, conflicts of his soul. I had to match him if I meant what I'd said. I threaded our fingers instead and forced all the veils I usually put up around myself to pull back.

"You. And Anya."

"Is this what you thought it would be like?" He pushed, his thumb rubbing across the top of my hand to encourage me. I looked out at the closet filled with more couture than any single person could wear in a lifetime and shook my head.

"I thought I'd be 30. I thought I'd have a masters degree. I thought I'd have a career and a house I bought myself and student loans. I thought I'd have the white dress and the bridesmaids and my mother walking me down the aisle." I gave him a sad smile.

He nodded and I felt him try to pull his hands away. I squeezed them tighter and gave a little yank until he looked back up at me,

"But I also thought I'd be going on trips to exotic places, and learning new languages, and taking my children to school. I thought I'd be remodeling rooms and dragging my husband to work functions. I have been wishing for the day that I would always have someone to eat dinner with, and bring to the movies with me, and wake up next to every morning."

He gave me a tentative smile and I scooted closer to him on the small settee until I was almost in his lap. I paused and took a deep breath, forcing myself to say the hardest part of this. He deserved the truth, even if all of it wasn't pretty.

"I am too young to be married, Stellan. In so many ways. It still freaks me out. I try not to think about it." I gave him a significant look. "I keep imagining you as my boyfriend because my life was never permanent before this. A husband is a very permanent thing, and the only constant I ever had was my Mom. It still scares me to admit that isn't my life anymore, I have a home and a family now. But if there was anyone I'd be willing to figure this out for - it would be you."

My arm started to tingle and quickly move into ache as I watched him battle his reaction to my answer, but now I knew exactly what to do. I leaned forward and kissed him, roughly, unlinking our hands so I could wrap my own around his neck and pull him toward me as I deepened the kiss until the tingle started to disappear. I rested my forehead against his own as we tried to regain our breath and then whispered,

"What should your superhero name be?"

"Don't." He warned, but there was this edge of laughter to it that made me want to goad him a little bit more.

"Something striking but snarky."

"Is that what you think of me?" He smirked, pulling just enough away so he could attempt to scare me with a severe look - but I could see right through it. I rolled my eyes at him,

"Am I wrong?"

"This better not leave this closet." He warned, barely holding back his smile.

"Which part?" I asked, leaning casually against the back of the settee, "the fact that everyone already knows you have superpowers? Or the fact that you're totally thinking of names now?"

"Avery, I swear to God…" he growled, his hands grabbing onto my knees as he leaned toward me. I jumped up and managed to dart out of his hands just in time, despite my very unladylike squeal, and sprinted out of the closet. The squeal quickly turning into laughter as I heard him tangle in my clothes as he attempted to jump up and give chase.


	19. Chapter 18

We were more than halfway through the ridiculous new Bond movie Stellan had somehow procured ahead of release for us when I gave up hope. I thought I had planned this out perfectly. The wing was empty, the living room was dark for the screening, and we were surrounded by pillows and blankets. This was him making good on the date he'd been baiting me with for the past two weeks and I was very underwhelmed.

We'd been running non-stop from meetings to openings to interviews to dinners. That was in between my Circle classes with Elodie and my Saxon meetings with Gemma about the household. At the end of every night, we'd lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to unwind from the day so we didn't unload onto each other. Then, I would usually pass out and wake up angry I'd missed my 'sexy times' window again. Noticing my building frustration he'd thrown out the idea of a date, hence Daniel Craig sprinting down a street in front of me. He'd at least remembered I wanted privacy for our private moments, but honestly, I would have rather gone out with Jack and Elodie tonight. They'd taken up Luc on his offer to attend the last night of Paris Design Week and drink wine as they wandered the city.

The movie lit up the space with a bluish glow, making Stellan's hair shine and the light bounce back off his plain white T-shirt. This was as casual as he was willing to get for our little movie date. I, on the other hand, had my hair completely down, my pajama set was tight, soft and short, and I'd been making all kinds of bored noises. We were a tangle of legs and arms, tucked tight against each other, my head on his chest, his fingers in my hair, and my skin was tingling with anticipation.

He'd never given any kind of hint at liking Bond. I honestly would have never thought someone like him or Jack would want to watch a spy movie considering what they did for a living. It had to be infuriating or laughably bad - like when they'd try to pass off places like Los Angeles or New York on TV shows when they were obviously in Georgia. Maybe I'd read this wrong. I didn't exactly have 'Netflix and Chill' down to a science yet. And now I'd been forced to sit through 90 minutes of Daniel Craig scowling in fancy-ass cars as things exploded around him.

I sighed and shifted in his hold. Things were still moving too slowly for me, despite all the progress we'd made since South Africa. I was ready for the next step...again. There had been so many mornings where I'd wished his fingers were something more. Countless daydreams during those horribly boring Circle meetings of him spreading me across his desk and fucking me so hard pens and folders started falling to the ground.

As things started to come together for the climax on the screen I settled in for the rest of this useless movie and my fingers brushed against _him_. I felt my eyes bug a little, heard his heartbeat pick up against my ear and he shifted and cleared his throat.

_Now or never Avery,_ I coached myself. _Just go for it._

I licked my lips, body buzzing with excitement and ran my hand down the length of his bulge, the jean fabric rough against my palm. He let out a charged breath, his hand clenched on my waist and I took that as a yes. I pushed up and quickly straddled him leaning toward his mouth. He sat up and met mine immediately, fisting my pajama shirt into tight balls on my back as he pulled me closer.

I backed away to take a breath, his lips running down my neck, and whispered, "I thought we'd never get here again."

"It's literally all I think about." He said against my neck, grating his teeth a little and making a shiver run down my spine.

"Really?" I said, circling my hips against the stiff heat beneath me. He ran his hands up under the back of my shirt and then groaned into my shoulder when he realized I wasn't wearing a bra.

"I didn't hear a single word Jack said today. All I wanted to do was rip that see-through shirt off you." He slid his hands down, pushing me harder onto his lap.

I pulled back with a gasp, "it was see-through?"

"I thought you did it on purpose," he laughed. His lips leaving a trail of kisses across my jaw as he moved to the other side, his fingers sliding up under my pajama shorts, feeling my thighs. "_Mon bourreau._"

I swayed my hips, the motion making the first spike of lust ignite in my sternum and spread quickly down past my stomach to settle into the part of me pressing against him. His hands gripped my ribs and lifted me off for a moment. He adjusted himself against his tight jeans and went to move me back down but I shook my head. I was done with all this teasing. His roaming hands stopped and he looked into my face, searching for the reason. I slid down his legs a bit and let my hands fall to the button and zipper of his jeans. I managed to pop the button and get his zipper down before his fingers curled around my wrists,

"What are you up to wifey?"

The word tripped up my lust. He'd said it with the teasing tone he'd always used before, but this was different. I was actually his wife now. He seemed to come to the same realization as we both froze, staring at my hands on his fly. Was that the reason he'd been restraining himself? We'd actually be consummating our marriage if we did this. The archaic gesture wasn't something I'd ever really taken seriously, but maybe he did. There was only one way to find out. I pulled his jeans opening wider and slipped a hand in, his fingers tightened around my wrists but he didn't stop me. My hand palmed him and he let out the breath he'd been holding and shifted his hips, releasing me to shove his jeans down further. I pulled his cock out, my hand immediately stroking up and down the length. He was already rigidly hard, the head glistening a bit as I stroked him again and he leaned back and rasped as he closed his eyes,

"Please."

I knew, even from our short amount of time together so far, if I kept stroking him this would be over quickly. That wasn't part of the plan tonight. Instead, I leaned forward, pressing my hands onto his chest, and arched my lower back to roll my hips forward, pressing my own building need against his own with only the thin cotton of my pajamas between us. As I arched up the length of his cock slid across me and my stomach contracted in the same moment he groaned. His thumbs hooked onto my hip bones, his long fingers fluttering across my ass and then up and down, urging me to do it again. I started rocking against him, back and forth, his fingers tightening against my hips, directing the motion faster and harder. I couldn't take my eyes off him, the pulse in his neck, his long swallows, his lips parting and panting whenever I'd ride up against him. This could get me there, but I wanted more. There was this ache inside me, this carnal desire to be full of him, to allow this need to override all the patient, respectful restraint he'd shown. And this felt so naughty. We still had all our clothes on, the movie was escalating behind me and we were out in the open. He could easily wrap a blanket around my hips and no one would know if we were just sitting there or he was inside me. I stopped for a moment, already feeling my heart picking up and the blush forming on my chest.

"This okay?" I quietly asked he nodded, eyes still closed and I took that as the permission I needed. He had always asked before we tried something new. Granted we'd had sex before, but this did feel different. Maybe because it had been so long, maybe because it wasn't my first time or I wasn't incredibly high, maybe because we were married. I lifted up onto my knees, pulled the bottoms of my pajama shorts aside, grabbed the solid base of his shaft and angled him to my opening. His head slid against the slickness of me and his eyes flew open, his hands racing up my ass to grab my waist and stop me.

"Avery!" He hissed, squeezing my ribs a little in his panic. "What are you doing?"

I stilled, my hand still on the base of his dick, the head moving against my arousal as he pulsed against my palm. I looked around the room, confused for a moment, thinking someone had walked in on us and then carefully answered, "having sex with you."

Despite the concern on his face, he was still rock hard. He swallowed and whispered, "here? At least let me get..." he moved me a little, realizing what he was trying to get I shook my head lowering myself more.

"I'm on the shot," I heaved, feeling myself already begin to stretch for him, it was electric. He nodded, relaxing at my response. We both let out quick breaths, his wild eyes searching my face, his fingers digging harder into my sides. I sighed when he pulsed again, "it feels so good."

"What if someone walks in here?" He looked around the room this time and I lowered myself until the head slid all the way in. I couldn't stop the moan, it broke from my throat, the sound mixing with the movie still rolling on behind us, masking some of it.

"We still have all our clothes on," I whispered back, my breath feeling quick in my chest. "They'll think I'm just…"

I broke off and then let go of his dick, sinking further down, my hands grabbing his. I took in a deep breath, my eyes fluttering closed. It was the best kind of pain, my body stretching around him easily from how wet I was. He let out a strangled noise in his throat and then forced his hands out of my hold and instead wrapped them around my hips and aided me further down. I opened my eyes and stared into his own, watching them widen with surprise and darken with lust the further down I went. When I'd finished my descent his hands smoothed up and down my curves and then pushed me down a final time forcing his length completely inside.

"Oh god," I heaved, overwhelmed by it all. I'd forgotten. Thick and long, it seemed impossible that he'd fit all the way in, but here I was sitting in his lap again. Despite the twinge of pain it was deeply satisfying, a release after months of containment. Continuing to press me down he shifted a little so he could sit up, his cock moving inside me and hit something that made me collapse a little toward him involuntarily, "fuck."

"Okay?" He asked, his thumbs running quick circles around my hip bones. I nodded, worried if I started to talk it would come out as a pant. His left palm shifted and I felt his thumb circle around that perfect spot over my pajama bottoms. The lust burned through me, this sparkling feeling that bubbled up toward my throat as I inhaled his name,

"S...Stellan."

His thumb pressed harder into me. I put my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as his eyes moved down to where he was buried inside me. His thumb moved just slightly to my left and the climax started to build, my fingers curled into him on instinct, nails digging in, and he swore,

"Avery," he looked up into my face, "can I fuck you now?"

"God. Please. Yes." I exhaled. He spread his legs further apart under me, my ass dipping into the space, his free hand grabbed my hip and started rocking me back and forth again. That small space he'd created made it easier for me to make him slide in and out a few inches with every move. I held onto his shoulders tighter causing him to hiss through his teeth.

"Circle them," he ordered and I did as I was told, starting to get lost in this, knowing I could trust him to guide me there. His thumb still firmly in place, he sped it up to match my movements and it unlocked something very deep inside me. I felt the climax tingling and tensing right between my hips. My breaths were coming out hard between my lips and I could feel the blush igniting up and down my skin.

"Close," I panted. "I'm close."

He reached up and grabbed my left hand, pressing my fingers onto the spot and grabbing my ass in both his hands as he hoarsely directed,

"Touch yourself."

I obeyed. Releasing his shoulder I let the hand fall behind me, the shift causing me to angle up a little. He pulled me down onto himself, filling me and then pushing me away, pistoning my hips up and down his length. Each snap jutting against the spot deep inside me only he could reach, it was making my vision start to blur. I let my head fall back, hair sliding down my arm, sticking to my neck that was starting to glisten with sweat.

"Please," I begged him. "I need you...I need you to..."

"What will you do for me?" He challenged, his accent thick, voice deep and it made another swelling of lust bloom from the bottom of my stomach up into my chest.

"Anything," I almost cried. It was close to torment, this position made everything keep building inside me but not enough to trip that wire over into orgasm. It was like being stuck in climax purgatory and I needed out.

"Scream my name," he grunted as he pulled me down again. The part of me that was worried about getting caught in this house that looked empty but always had eyes and ears everywhere, hesitated.

"What if," I started and he slid his hands up my sweating back pulling me toward him. My breasts pushed into his face and he instantly found my nipple and bit down over the fabric. I braced my hands on either side of his head on the back of the couch as I let out a hiss of pain.

"I don't fucking care," he commanded against the fabric and then bit down again. One palm pressed hard into my lower back forcing me to angle my hips forward and my ass up, the other palmed an entire cheek and held me in place as he started fucking me from underneath. It was hard, the pace quick, the couch creaking with every movement as I laid my burning cheek against the top of his head and started sucking in quick, drawing breaths. The orgasm clawed up me, filling my body with exquisite pressure until I couldn't contain it any longer and his name burst from my lips, loudly and then hoarsely over and over again. It quickly dissolved into vulgarity as the waves continued to curl through me with each jutting stab. Then he let out a low groaning that built into words my brain couldn't process as he slammed me down a few more times and I felt him come inside me. It caused a shiver of desire to race down my spine and I convulsed against him, squeezing his cock within me on impulse, pulling his sweaty head against my heaving chest.

My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it thumping against his face. I was exhausted, my thighs shaking, my breathing hard to manage. Slowly I sank down onto his lap, his cock still hard inside me, his hands softening and pulling me to his body. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Panting and still pulsing from our release we laid there for a long moment, but as he regained his senses I was still struggling to breathe. His left hand made a quick swipe down my body and then rested on my back where I was sure he could feel my heart hammering away. His whisper was urgent and worried,

"Avery, your heart."

"I'll be fine," I said, still wheezing. He tried to pull me up so he could get a better look at me, but I pressed harder into him. "I'm just tired."

"I wonder why," he joked but his voice was tight with concern.

"Let me sleep," I said, sinking further into him. He hesitated, hands pausing in their examination, and then reached down to the ground to pull the blanket that had fallen up around us. I was still far too sweaty for a blanket, but it covered up all our mischief. As I heard the credits begin behind me his fingers started to rake my damp hair off my neck, soothing me as I forced myself to relax. My bodying needing the rest. But before I could drift off to sleep I managed, "I love you."

"You're everything to me. I love you," he squeezed me closer. "Are you sure you…"

I shushed him and felt a little chuckle shake his chest as he stopped his fretting. My body was so heavy with exertion that when he shifted uncomfortably underneath me I almost didn't want to move. With some apology, I felt the muscles in his chest work as he lifted me off his lap and tucked me back against his side. He pulled at his jeans, adjusting himself, and then we were back to where we started, my head on his chest, his fingers in my hair, but now with a satisfied calm between us.

* * *

When I woke up the next morning, still in my pajamas from the movie date night, a twinge of worry rippled through me. I turned around to face Stellan still asleep next to me in the bed, I hadn't remembered him carrying me there but was grateful we hadn't passed out on the couch. I needed a moment of privacy to work through all this and everyone but me was an early riser in this house. Had I pushed this too hard? Had I somehow badgered him into having sex with me? There had to be a reason he'd been holding back for so long. Everything I'd ever been taught or read had such an emphasis on ensuring complete consent. Usually, that centered around the female part of the equation, but this small part of me worried that maybe I was moving too fast for him. In the next moment it boggled my mind, he was far more experience than me, there was no reason to be concerned about that. But I was. I didn't want to wreck this. I didn't want to do what I always did - jump headfirst into everything because it would only be temporary anyway. That wasn't my life anymore, there was no move coming at the end of the year, there was no reason to keep a distance from everyone I met. Had my impatience done some damage to what he'd been trying to build for us?

I frowned and then reached forward to brush some hair off his forehead that stirred him awake. He stretched with a groan and I looked at the clock, we still had about a half hour before Jack or Elodie would bombard us with texts about the day ahead. I should probably talk to him, make sure I hadn't stepped over some line he'd been trying to tow. I was working up the exact way to word it when his hand slid down my stomach to rest right between my thighs. His fingers played with me as he cleared his throat and said in a gravelly voice,

"You too sore?"

"N-no." I stuttered my heart picking up in my chest. He smiled, cracked an eye open at me, and then rolled on top. It didn't even take him five minutes before we were naked and he'd slid the tip in, holding for a moment. I was a little sore, but the relief in knowing I hadn't pushed this too fast erased that and I looked up into his eyes nodding as he slid completely in. My body relented faster this time and the moment it did he shoved a pillow under my hips and threw my ankles up to his shoulders pressing so deep into me that my gasp filled the quiet room. He'd paused again, searching my eyes to see if he'd hurt me, but I slid my hand down to touch myself and he started groaning things in French. It made me laugh a little, the oddity of how his multilingual brain worked this early in the morning, and then he hit that spot deep inside me that made me moan and moan and moan until he was begging me to say his name again and I was readily complying as my world buzzed out into white all around me. His cursing finish, his soft and lingering kisses, his stroking hands after all told me more than any words could have, it hadn't been a mistake.

It still wasn't a mistake that night when we'd barely made it past the door before he'd thrown me onto the bed and dropped his dress slacks to the floor, taking me at the edge of the mattress as I almost pulled the sheets off in my climax. Nor was it a mistake the following morning when he'd flipped me over and taken me from behind, a handful of my hair wrapped around his fist as we'd both been far too loud, laughing about it together in the cuddle after. Or the next morning in the shower, with the cold tiles on my back and my pleading echoing around us and the pounding water. In fact, it took almost an entire week of this before I'd actually needed a break and that morning after he'd finished all over my fist, I finally had the nerve and the words I'd needed,

"So I didn't pressure you into moving too fast?"

Stellan laughed, loudly, and then buried his head in my neck, inhaling deeply before kissing me and saying,

"I was just waiting for you. Always have. And I always will."

* * *

"Okay," Elodie eyed me warily, "I'm just going to _comment dit-on_…"

She trailed off and I leaned back in my chair, waiting. We were at the end of our Circle lesson and I'd noticed she was acting strange today. Our relationship had only improved marginally since South Africa. She'd still roll her eyes and huff at me, mutter things in French under her breath and generally make me wonder what I would finally do to make her snap again. But, whenever it would escalate to that tipping point she'd close her eyes, nod a few times and then reset and explain it a different way. I appreciated it, more than I ever told her, but the welcoming, warm, fuzzy feeling I had with Luc and Colette seemed like an Everest sized mountain to climb between the two of us.

She continued to glare at the stained glass window of my office as she tried to find the words and then snapped her head back toward me, "rip the plaster."

"Plaster?" I wrinkled my nose, confused.

"When you have a scratch or a small cut. You know the…" she gestured toward her arm making a ripping motion and I let out a long,

"Oh...bandaid. Rip off the band-aid." I smiled, and then my face dropped. "Why?"

"You have to go to London Fashion Week," she answered in a rush.

"Why?" I drug out the word this time as a welling of panic formed instantly in my chest.

"No one can say I haven't been trying. I have." She leveled a very serious look at me and then leaned toward the desk to say in a lower voice, "it's not fair to make you have to do this so soon."

"Thank you," I quietly replied, but I couldn't look at her, I couldn't see anything. I was trying to fight off flashbacks of blood and screaming and bodies on the ground.

"But I've been running scenarios for days and there is no way this doesn't tarnish the Saxon front if you opt out." She continued, unperturbed by my change in demeanor. "We sort of fucked ourselves by going to the other Saxon outings so far."

"No shit," I snapped, it came out too harsh and I held my breath hoping it wouldn't upset her. Instead, she nodded and let out a dark laugh.

"Lydia Saxon was one of the major benefactors of the British Fashion Council. She also personally sponsored a handful of up and coming designers this year. It would be a PR nightmare if you flake on this. But if you go…"

"I'm brave and respectful," I filled in the blank, my voice tight and flat.

She nodded, eyeing me for a moment as if she'd just noticed the thin sheen of sweat that had formed on my forehead the moment she'd told me I had to go. She pressed her lips together, her red lipstick disappearing and I couldn't bear some kind of pep talk from her. I wouldn't be able to curb my snappy reaction, and I was trying so hard lately to keep building our friendship.

"Stellan can't come?" I asked, already knowing it was no from the frown that formed on her face.

"If you needed him to. It's not against some kind of rule. But he would be more useful keeping up with all the meetings you'll have to miss this week."

"No Jack?" I pushed, wondering how well this 'double Keeper' rule they'd forged in France would hold up when unending days of fashion were involved. She shook her head.

I nodded, checked my phone and asked, "I'm assuming it starts tonight?"

"Opening party is at 8PM," Elodie confirmed checking her phone. I felt a series of buzzes and looked down to see all my new calendar additions. I felt my eyes widen in fear, this was almost a full-time gig for the next five days. I locked my phone and put it face down on the desk for good measure.

"And I'm wearing something haute couture but black because I'm a mourning orphan?" I looked toward my red door, slumping already with exhaustion. She stood, gathering all her belongings off my desk and rose a warning eyebrow at me as she intoned,

"If you toss these shoes out a window I will end you."

A little bubble of laughter managed to rise through all the panic at her leaving back. She turned around at the sound and narrowed her eyes at me. I let out a very overly dramatic sigh of,

"Fine."

She smiled at me and I smiled back, right up until the door closed. It slid off my face and I wrapped my arms across my breasts tightly trying to squeeze down the panic blooming in my chest.

* * *

At least I'd made it through the first four days without incident.

Elodie didn't even flinch. She quickly looked around the venue, her eyes darted to something behind me, she wrapped her arm around my waist, scanned the busy crowd around us and swung me into a rack of clothes. I stumbled through all the sequins and feathers until I landed on the other side of the rack, now hidden from view, Elodie directly behind me. She guided me up against the wall, then grabbed the rack and angled that so we were in this little makeshift triangle of privacy. One hand was on my shoulder, holding me against the wall, the other was quickly dialing a number on her phone.

I tried to take in a bigger breath but it made my lungs ache and pinch with pain. Around us, people were yelling and organizing nearly naked models in a variety of languages. I even saw some hands quickly yank some things off our rack. Elodie was quickly barking orders in French and eyeing me cautiously. I looked up into the blinding overhead lights and tried to breathe again - no luck. Of course, my meltdown would come at my very last event, I had almost executed this week perfectly.

Elodie and I had this down to a science. She'd dress me up in an understated but couture outfit of the up and coming designer we were meeting that morning. We'd arrive with plenty of lead time, so as not to trip up the designer. They'd take one look at me, in their clothes, with the ever-increasing amount of paparazzi tailing me and go from harassed to happy in 2.3 seconds. We'd exchange roughly four or five sentences of safe phrases Elodie had drilled into me on the car over. We'd take the pictures, I'd watch the show from the front row nodding my head as if I cared, I'd get in the car and we'd slog through traffic to the headline shows the rest of the day. We'd regroup at Riberton for about an hour just so I could change and head to the party that night. Elodie and I would sip expensive wine as I continued my 'brave orphan' tour of this new group of clingers and very low-level Circle suck-ups until she deemed it safe to leave. I'd pass out as soon as the couture was off and woke up before Stellan to do it all again the next day.

I was always being paired up to take pictures with people I didn't know. Elodie would explain it to me in the car but it didn't matter. Some fashion blogger, an entrepreneur, former models, designers, celebrities I didn't recognize - we all knew the drill. Pose, flat smile, turn, turn again, and they'd grab my hands and tell me how brave I was as they moved on to the next photo op. People were here to be seen, and since I was causing the most press wherever I showed up - I was bombarded. But that wasn't what was making me panic.

It was this venue. All the other venues had been in experimental spaces or historical sites. There was the tent in Hyde Park with the orchestra, the opulent halls of Lancaster House, or the mud runway that I still couldn't quite wrap my brain around. Today's venue looked like an actual runway. Like the one in Paris. After I'd taken my obligatory picture with the designers and desperate debutantes I'd peeked at the runway and felt the breath push out of me like I'd been punched in the stomach. I'd tried to escape, but the deluge of rain that had been plaguing this whole week was back in force and I couldn't get these leather pants wet.

Which was why I was now hiding behind a rack of clothes and trying not to pass out on Elodie.

As the stage manager shouted out 5 minutes, the pace of people running around and shouting picked up. It was the final trigger for my anxiety, and my brain couldn't hold back the flood of panic I'd been battling back down all week.

"I can't. Please don't make me do this," I whispered lowly and tried to suck in a breath. I grabbed onto Elodie's tricep, digging my fingertips in as if they could help me emphasize it faster.

Her voice came back through my fuzzy hearing and I forced myself to look at her, "...coming. He's just down the street. Can you make it?"

"Who is coming?" I heaved, eyes widening with fear and she put her other hand on my free shoulder and loudly and clearly said,

"Stellan."

"Oh," I nodded and started to cry. I couldn't help it, the relief mixing with the panic was making me very volatile. Elodie squeezed my shoulders and continued,

"But you have to go take your seat. He's going to sit in my place. Can you do it?"

I shook my head furiously, "I don't know," I hiccuped, reaching up to wipe away some tears. Elodie let me go and started pulling things out of the giant purse she'd been carrying every day. She started blotting my face with a Kleenex and then calmly said,

"You have to, Avery. There are a lot of Circle people here. This is a test."

"When is it not a test?" I sniffled, miserable, and took in a painful, shaky breath. Elodie started patting loose powder onto my cheeks, fixing what all my tears had messed and blew her bangs off her forehead as she grumbled,

"Never."

The lights flickered twice above us causing the constant noise and clacking heels to double behind the two of us. More sets of hands started ripping clothes and my panic kicked into high gear. I started hyperventilating slowly sinking down the wall in an attempt to get smaller against the threat I knew..._I knew_...wasn't real but I couldn't convince my brain otherwise. Elodie's eyes went wide as she followed me down the wall crouching before me and quickly explaining,

"It just means the show is about to start. You're safe!"

"I," I gasped, "know." I gasped again. Trying to convey with my eyes that this was beyond my control now. She dropped me and went digging through her purse, muttering in French as she pulled out medication bottles and tiny containers of things, tossing them at the ground as she frantically speed up her search.

The lights flickered again and a spike of mortification amplified my panic attack. I was going to fuck this up. I'd been doing so well, working so hard, and because I took one look at a runway I wasn't going to be able to watch this show, and the Circle was going to use that against us. But I couldn't stop the build of it. My chest was heavy, to the point that it felt like it was caving inward. Every small breath I managed to squeeze in made stabs of pain lance into my ribcage. My world was darkening around the edges and my whole body felt like it was shaking now.

"What am I thinking!" Elodie exclaimed, sounding angry and then shot up and dove through the clothes as she yelled out toward the crowd, "does anyone have a Xanax?"

People answered her, but I closed my eyes and tried to fight my brain. Reminding it if I actually couldn't breathe I'd be dead already. That this wasn't real. That this wasn't Paris. I sat with a thud onto the cold concrete floor, feeling my hair drag behind me on the stucco wall and dug my fingernails into the fleshy part of my palms until I was sure I had to be drawing blood. The pain pinged through the dark panic in my mind, but not enough to stall the escalation.

"_Kuklachka?_"

My eyes snapped open and his face swam into view kneeling before me. I felt his warm hands on my clammy cheeks and forced myself to focus on the gold rings right around the pupils of his eyes. He squeezed my face and commanded,

"Breathe."

I tried. He nodded and commanded it over and over until the room started to come back into focus and I could tell the lights were dimming around us for the show this time. Elodie dove back through the clothes and kneeled next to Stellan on the ground,

"Open up!" She yelled over the booming trance music that started shaking the very air around us. She passed over two pills and broke the seal on the small bottle of vodka she held. Stellan let me go, my shaking hands struggled to get the pills in as Elodie passed over the vodka next. I took a sip, wincing at the bitter bite of the pills and the booze coating my tongue when Elodie tapped the bottle with her fingers,

"All of it!" She shouted. With a wince and a gag, I forced everything down. My stomach instantly burned from the booze as Stellan and Elodie helped me up off the floor. She examined my outfit, swiping off dirt and glitter from the ground and Stellan grabbed my shoulders and loudly asked,

"Better?"

I shook my head, Elodie and Stellan exchanged a look and then she shrugged,

"In ten minutes you won't feel anything!"

She pushed the rack aside exposing our group to the organized chaos being orchestrated by curious people in headsets. Elodie started pointing in directions as she gave Stellan the instructions on how to get to our seats and I felt the first wave of the drugs take effect. It was as if my blood itself was greedily sucking the chemicals in as fast as they could, pumping it out to every square inch of my body. The ache in my chest lifted, the air I sucked into my lungs felt incredibly light and my whole body became heavy with artificial relaxation. My legs and hands tingled as the drugs worked their magic and then slackened as if I was in a hot tub. I slumped against Stellan as I slurred,

"Oh, fuck."

"Elodie!" Stellan snapped at her. "You gave her too much!"

"I gave her the perfect amount. It hits you hard at first. This place is crawling with Circle wives. She has to relax." She cracked back.

"You always do this," he started to steam off, ignoring all the models and staff eyeing our escalating tableau. But Elodie leaned forward, grabbed his tie and dress shirt in her fist and yanked him toward her as she commanded,

"I am part of this family. I would never hurt her. You are compromising us with your overprotective bullshit. Go take your fucking seat. I know what I'm doing."

"Listen to Elodie," I added, the effort to make the words come out was surprisingly hard. I took another breath to try and battle against the strong desire to take a nap on the ground. Stellan paused for a moment and then nodded at her. Elodie dropped her grip on his clothes and then smoothed them back into place as he asked her something in French.

"I'll take care of it." She replied looking around at all the assistants and backstage groupies trying to hide their phones and then pushed us toward the exit.

Stellan grabbed me around the waist as I tottered alongside him in my heels and let him basically drag me through the crowds until we landed in our seats near the end of the runway. The initial flush of excessive relaxation started to wain when we sat, and for a single moment my brain tried to fight against the chemical stranglehold of the Xanax - but then the vodka kicked in. I leaned against Stellan's arm, pretending to watch the models stomp past us with their pretty pouts and their perfect bodies and grabbed his hand.

It was incredibly surreal. My world felt like it was filled with molasses. Threading my fingers through his own took minutes, crossing my ankles under my chair took careful coordination, tucking some hair behind my ear made me feel like I was moving in slow motion. When I finally looked back up at the show they'd moved on to a completely different look, with different lighting and music. I couldn't keep up with it.

Unlike my, infamous, brush with Molly and an acid kicker this felt like I'd been drugged. I knew I should be worried about what I'd possibly have to say to all the suck ups that were going to bombard us but I couldn't. My brain wouldn't let me, and the lack of panic made me realize it didn't matter because we could just leave, or Stellan could do all the talking. I wanted to smile at that but stopped myself. Elodie had coached me to always look pensive at these things. She told me to try and contemplate philosophical questions as I watched to get the facial expression right - like the dilemma of determination or the problem of qualia. I'd spent the last four days trying to figure out what either of those meant.

The crowd erupted in applause, the noise growing as everyone around me stood and Stellan grabbed my arm to guide me up as we watched the line of models all turn at once to start clapping for the designer that popped out already waving from backstage. The lights flooded on, people turned to their neighbors shouting their gushing praise over the noise and Stellan leaned toward me to kiss my hairline and ask directly into my ear,

"Still panicking?"

I shook my head keeping my eyes on the waiters moving through the crowd with glasses of Champaign. People started clinking glasses and taking big sips and I stiffened in his hold. But the vodka and Xanax flooded me again and it became impossible to react. I was still having all my panicky thoughts, but they slid away as fast as they appeared. _No one should drink that, this is a trap, we have to find the fuckers that are trying to kill everyone, I can't do this again, it will break me. _

"It's okay _lyubov' moya_," Stellan's voice broke through the noise, "it's not going to happen again."

The relief coupled with the surprise that he'd basically been reading my mind made an intense flood of love fill me. I grabbed his tie and pulled him down a little so I could kiss him. He let out a surprised noise but kissed me back, and then, because we couldn't keep our hands off each other lately, immediately deepened it.

The venue dissolved around us, I wrapped his tie around my hand absently as his fingers found their way into my hair. Even in these heels I still forced myself up onto my toes for those final few inches that could get me closer to him. The kisses were slow and lingering and I couldn't tell if it was him or the Xanax making it feel so pleasurable. Then there was a sharp jab between my shoulders that startled me away from his lips and I turned my head to see Elodie giving the two of us a harassed look.

"Gross," she told me and then gave Stellan a disapproving glare before her eyes darted to the right of us and said, "Meleck, three o'clock."

I unraveled my hand from his tie, but kept flush against him as a woman saturated in Dolce and Gabbana slid up next to us with a deep nod and said over the noise of the celebrating crowd,

"Beautiful show."

"Imaginative," I slowly agreed. This was one of the phrases Elodie had drilled into me for post-show discussions and interviews. She rose a surprised eyebrow at me and then turned to Stellan,

"So refreshing to see husbands here. Do you also love fashion?"

"I love my wife," he evenly replied, his hand cinching on my waist protectively. From the back of my drunk, drugged, mind I could tell there was subtext I needed to be picking up on here but there was no way I could keep up with this conversation.

"Of course," she gave him a big, fake, smile and flagged down the waiter offering us both a glass of Champagne. Now that, I knew, was a dirty trick. Elodie slid up on my other side, angling herself a little in front of me and a flash of anger rose up through my artificial calm as I pieced together how I recognized her.

"Now I remember," I blurted over the tension. All eyes snapped to me and I caught Stellan and Elodie jerk in my peripheral vision in anticipation of how badly I could possibly mess this up. But this bitch was trying to personally fuck with me, in public, at an event everyone was telling me I was so brave to be attending. I couldn't hold back my anger.

"Excuse me?" She asked, her overly done eyes looking me up and down with caution.

"Your husband was going to divorce you for me. Porsha Meleck." I nodded. Everyone froze. I let the smile fill my face as I tacked on at the end, "how are your children?"

Porsha's face went from pissed to frightened in a blink and all her puffed up arrogance drained out of her instantly. I hadn't meant for it to be a threat, but I suppose my creepy smile sort of negated that. Apparently, Circle children were not a topic to be discussed lightly because even Cecile Dauphin had this same reaction to me. Considering how many I'd killed by proxy I suppose it was a threat coming from me. But I didn't care. I waited.

She bowed her head and quietly answered, "they are well. Thank you for asking Your Majesty."

"Great," I brightly answered and pushed against Stellan's hold. "We need to go."

"Give our best to Daniel," Stellan drawled, already moving us and that seemed to shake Porsha into action.

"My apologies. I came over to invite you to Yom Kippur." She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. Elodie swooped in front of me and accepted it instead.

"Thank you," I called over my shoulder as I tugged Stellan away. Without another glance back we started navigating through the crowds. Every few feet we'd have to stop for another picture. It felt like it took an hour to get to the door, and at that point, I was completely spent. We pushed through the doors out into another downpour. All three of us let out a growl of frustration and then Elodie reached into her purse and pulled out an umbrella.

"Are you Mary Poppins?!" I laughed, ducking under it. Elodie let out a single laugh and answered,

"Perfectly deadly in every way."

I started laughing as Elodie braved the rain to flag down our car. I tipped my red umbrella back a bit to look up at Stellan as he pulled the collar up on his suit jacket and blinked through the raindrops.

"You don't want to share?"

"And ruin my chivalrous reputation?" He smirked down at me. I gave him a shocked look back,

"Clearly I misinterpreted your skinny jeans and switchblades."

He started laughing and then offered me an arm to guide me down the slippery steps toward our waiting car. As the two of them shook out the excess moisture from their blond hair I leaned against my window and closed my eyes. The lights, the flashes, the noise, the adrenaline slipped away the further our car sloshed through the London side streets and my medically induced calm swept over me again. I started having daydreams about our orange bed and using Stellan's body heat like a blanket when Elodie's voice broke up my thoughts,

"That was magnificent, Avery. I'm impressed."

My eyes slid open and I gasped,

"You are?"

Stellan started laughing again and ran a hand down my thigh to squeeze my knee as he said something in French to Elodie, she gave him a harassed pout in response. I felt the drugs pulse through my bloodstream and closed my eyes,

"I can die happy now. Elodie was impressed by me once."

"More than once," she replied with an unexpected warmth to her voice. I cracked open an eye and smirked at her,

"I knew I'd grow on you."

"Don't push your luck," she warned, her face slipping back into her usual resting bitch face. But I could see the twinkle in her eye and it instantly dawned on me what Jack and even Stellan had seen in her. To be on Elodie's good side was a euphoric thing. I let out a long sigh, sinking deeper into the leather seat and closed my eyes asking,

"This was really bad wasn't it?"

"Yes," they both answered.

"We're going to talk about this later, aren't we?" I continued.

"Later?" Stellan was the first to respond and tapped my thigh to try and get me to open my eyes. There was no way that was going to happen,

"I'm just gonna take a real quick coma if that's alright with everyone."

Elodie let out a snort of laughter and I felt a giant smile spread across my face as the daydream of my wonderful orange bed swam back into focus. Stellan tapped me again,

"Maybe you should stay awake."

"You're always such a buzzkill," Elodie reprimanded him for me. I shifted in my seat so I could wedge myself into the corner more securely as Stellan cracked back,

"Me? When have I ever been a buzzkill?"

"I'll start back five years ago when we went to the New Years Eve party in Bangkok."

"This again," he grumbled and I half listened as we splashed our way back toward Riberton, their bickering like a wonderful lullaby.

* * *

"What are you wearing?"

I slowly stood up from my crouch in front of the fridge and turned to see a very confused Jack.

"Clothes," I answered looking down at the baggy, cuffed, track pants and giant dark blue hoodie I was sporting.

"A giant's clothes?" He continued and took a couple clicking steps toward me. I pulled the hood back up over my head and laughed,

"Don't let Stellan hear you say that."

I returned to my task and crawled further into the fridge. This thing was almost the size of a powder room and I was on a very specific hunt.

"Why aren't you at the closing party for Fashion Week?"

"So many reasons," I sighed and then spotted a stash of Stella Artois. I slid back out and passed him a beer that he took skeptically. I clarified, "you're gonna want that."

His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline and I went back to my digging finally finding the block of cheese I'd been looking for. My cheer filled the fridge as I cradled it to my chest and emerged. Walking around a flabbergasted Jack I started pulling out the crackers and Nutella.

"What is going on with you? Where is Elodie?"

I hugged all my food to my body and grabbed a spoon as the hood on Stellan's jacket fell a little into my eyes. Shuffling back toward the living room I called over my shoulder,

"Come on."

I had to tilt my head up so I wouldn't trip and then hip checked the dining room door open and shuffled into the living room. Stellan and Elodie's angry-sounding French abruptly cut off as they looked over at us.

"Told you we'd have some," I said tossing the container of Nutella across the room toward Stellan. My aim was completely off but his long arm stretched out to grab it before it hit the floor.

I padded across the carpet and then slid right back into position, tucked between the arm of the couch and Stellan with my legs draping over his lap. He snaked his arm around my waist to pull me closer and I passed over the spoon. With a kiss to my still covered head, he jammed the spoon into the jar of Nutella as Jack asked the three of us,

"What the hell is going on?"

I popped open the box of crackers and started with,

"Those two are drinking," I pointed at the near-empty bottle of wine on the table, "but I'm not allowed to so I'm having a snack."

"Why aren't you allowed to?" Jack questioned moving to stand at the back of the couch opposite Stellan and I. Elodie finished off her glass and reached forward to pour the last of the wine into her stemware.

"She's already drugged up enough after her panic attack at the show."

Jack nodded sagely, seeming to piece together my strange mood and outfit from that single piece of information. He gave me a sad frown that I shrugged in response at, still too high from the Xanax to really react to anything the way I should be.

"That's not the reason they're drinking though." I offered and started to unwrap my block of cheese to pair it with my crackers. I realized only then that I'd forgotten a plate and a knife. But as I watched Stellan double dip on the Nutella I realized we were way past formalities tonight. I bit directly into the cheese.

Jack watched all of us as he scratched at his beard and then rounded the couch and sat down setting his Stella on the coffee table. "What's the reason?"

"The Meleck's invited us to Yom Kippur," Elodie answered and took a long slug of her wine. Jack let out a groan and then drug his hand down his face, landing worried, stormy eyes on Stellan and I.

I nodded and adjusted my hood before sinking deeper into Stellan's side. Jack put his elbows on his knees, leaning forward for a moment before he grabbed the beer, twisted the cap off and drained it in only four swallows. I wanted to clap I was so impressed but stopped myself and instead said,

"Told you."

He stood and moved back toward the kitchen returning with the rest of the twelve pack. He set them on the coffee table, the glass clinking, and rolled up his sleeves.

"Yom Kippur started a few hours ago. We have to decide and plan all this tonight for their party tomorrow then?" He asked and then opened another bottle.

"I'm assuming that's what all the angry French has been about," I answered taking another bite of cheese.

"So his absence was on purpose," Elodie grumbled sinking lower into her overstuffed armchair.

"At the British Museum, the Circle meeting and South Africa," Stellan added and then leaned forward to put the Nutella far away from himself on the coffee table.

"But why send Noa to intercept Avery at the resort then?" Jack countered and leaned back taking a long sip of beer.

They all grew quiet as they thought it over and I shoved my hand into the cracker box when the thought forced its way through all my drug induced fog and I blurted out, "wait!"

"Yes?" Stellan cautiously asked and I felt three pairs of eyes on me. The connections were sluggish to form and I held up my free hand to make them give me some time. The smile spread across Jack's mouth as he took another sip, patiently waiting and I cautiously started,

"You're saying the current head of the Meleck Family has skipped out on all of our events now?"

"He's been," Elodie stopped to put her glass between her legs and air quote, "battling an illness."

"But based on how combative Daniel has been you think he's lying?" I turned so I could face Elodie. She nodded and I continued, "and you think this Noa girl was some spy for them?"

"Wouldn't be the first time they pulled something like that," Jack grumbled and I looked between the two of them for a moment, cursing how slowly my brain was working. Stellan started making tight, small circles on my hip with his thumb and I shook my head.

"No. I don't think she was."

"She had to be, why else would she have approached you?" Jack quickly countered.

"But she didn't," I said repositioning myself on the couch so I could see them both better. "I ran into her on accident. I wasn't supposed to be at the hotel that day. That's why Talia was so horrified to see me. And that girl did not have a single nice thing to say about her uncle. She started to freak me out with her literal Circle savior vibes."

"It could have all been a lie, Avery." Jack shrugged and took another sip of beer. "We've all been trained to be excellent liars."

I pulled my other hand free from the box and wiped all the salt off on the track pants as I said, "not someone that was 6th in line though. She told me she would have never been able to see me if it wasn't for that Cape Town trip."

"Noa has never been identified as a threat. Porsha yes," Elodie added leaning heavily on the arm of her chair as she continued, "I think it would be safe to assume that David Meleck is doing what he's always done. Trying to stir shit up by using all his underlings as the instigators. That way he can deny it all if it blows up."

"So we don't go. Game over." I crossed my arms over my chest and snuggled back into Stellan's side.

"That's exactly what he wants us to do." Elodie sighed. "It would be another reason they could use as fuel for their smear campaign."

Stellan's ribs expanded into my side as drew in a large breath and held it. He'd been pretty quiet this whole time, and I would have thought it was out of nerves but my arm hadn't even fluttered once. He slowly exhaled and said,

"He sent a lackey to hand deliver an invitation at a contentious event to a party the next day, which literally translates to the day of atonement. If that's not a Bond villain move I don't know what is."

"You do like Bond!" I huffed and turned to scowl at him but the hood on his jacket covered my face.

"Who doesn't?" He laughed back. I pulled the hood off, my hair spilling around my face and cracked back,

"Actual spies," I gestured toward the room. Jack laughed into his beer and Elodie rolled her eyes. But I couldn't tell if it was because of my comment of if maybe she didn't consider the two of them worthy of the title. She pulled out her phone and announced to the room,

"Our _actual_ Order spies have confirmed we have two plants at the Meleck compound. They are so deep they don't want to compromise their position by revealing their identity at this time."

"We're going to Jerusalem?" I ventured a guess.

Elodie rose the last sip of her wine toward the coffee table, Stellan following suit, then Jack with his beer. I grabbed my hunk of cheese and thrust it forward,

"Jerusalem."


	20. Chapter 19

Every single step in our plan had gone wrong and I was close to exploding. Even Stellan's near-constant circles on the underside of my wrist were starting to insight me. I tore my hand away from his in the car and crossed my arms over my chest. No one wanted to say it out aloud, but the universe was trying to fuck us. Or warn us.

Inviting someone to visit you, in Israel on the eve of Yom Kippur, is a dick move as it turns out. When we'd discussed our plans with Roberts he'd outright laughed at us and reminded Jack that he should have known better as he walked away - without giving us an answer. Jack flushed, grabbed his phone and then let out a long string of colorful British curse words I'd never heard before and informed us we were screwed. The entire country shuts down for Yom Kippur, even the borders. No planes, no trains, no cars. We had to wait until after sunset to even land the plane and the nearest airport was at least an hour away from the Meleck compound in Jerusalem.

It could have been the onslaught of texts and emails from the Order through the night as Jack and Elodie had thrown this plan together without sleeping, or the mind-numbing five hours of debriefing and coordinating that had happened on the plane, but I think it was the horrible humidity when we landed and Elodie's outfit choice had finally set me on edge. The air conditioning in the car was broken, of course, so the tepid air was making the fabric sweltering. I didn't care if it made my eyes pop, having to wear this baby doll mustard yellow silk dress the rest of the night made me keep glaring at her when I knew she wasn't looking. I would find a way to make her pay for this. Maybe I'd toss the outrageous shoes she'd picked onto the street as an offering.

The car lurched another few feet and my head bumped into the headrest. It had only taken us 40 minutes to get to the outskirts of Jerusalem. We were going 90 on the eerily empty highway and it had given us a false sense of accomplishment. But once we'd made it to the city traffic had ground to a halt as the streets filled with citizens leaving to celebrate. I growled to myself but it was too loud in this silent car.

"Almost there," Jack tried to pacify, still glued to his phone since we'd disembarked. "Should we go over the plan again?"

I caught Stellan and Elodie nodding, but I would not subject myself to another minute of painfully specific instructions when really the plan boiled down to something very simple.

"No," I snapped. "You all turned the notifications to silent on the text chain with the Order. I didn't. When they tell us to bail on the party I'm going to mount Stellan and make us collide into their awful charcuterie table and spill meats and cheeses all over the ground."

Jack and Elodie's faces dropped in shock, but next to me I could see Stellan's shoulders bouncing with unshed laughter as he managed, "yep, that's the plan."

I tented my dress away from my sweating body and leaned forward to futility fiddle with the air conditioning controls again. A few pops outside the car made me peeked out the window to see a steady stream of fireworks light up the sky behind our final destination. It was taking us almost twenty minutes to go two miles and I was ready to get out and walk. Nothing about this was going to be easy or fun and I was ready to just get it over with.

A bead of sweat trickled down between my breasts into my bra and I clenched my fists so I wouldn't slam them into something. The rest of the car had years of training on how to combat this awful anxious feeling tendriling through every thought I had, poisoning all my attempts to calm myself. It tainted the celebratory city around me. I glared at the families laughing and sharing food at the restaurants we passed, I frowned at all the kids darting around on bicycles, I huffed at all the beautiful lanterns lighting up the streets as the city was slowly coming back alive from their fast.

The car finally rolled to a stop in front of the entrance for the King David Hotel and I threw open the door before the driver had pulled the e-brake. I didn't even wait for Stellan. I just stormed toward the entrance, every click from my heels fueling my indignation before noticing the security guards slide in front of the doors like bouncers. One had a giant gun strapped to the front of him and the other an earpiece. I sized them up and went for the earpiece.

"Name?" He asked his accent thick, his mouth a bored, red, pout. I put my left hand on my hip, his eyes darted to the ring and then up to my eyes in quick succession before he looked behind me and the pout turned into a thin tension line.

"You wanna try that again?" I lowly warned him and felt Stellan slide his hand along my lower back.

The armed guard shifted uncomfortably next to my first whipping boy as he pressed his hands to his forehead and bowed to me. His finger went immediately to his ear as he said,

"My apologies Your Majesty I didn't recognize you at first."

He slid to the side and snapped his fingers, anxiously, at his muscle who backed up and held the door open for the four of us to pass through. Earpiece bowed again and I ignored his genuflection and said over my shoulder,

"Elodie, get his name."

I caught the armed guard shaking his head as he made his way back out to his post and I continued on my warpath. This was all part of the plan. I was supposed to be absolutely obnoxious at every point tonight to make the Meleck's think the power was going to my head. I had to have the rest of our Family silently try to corral me as I made inappropriate comments and played on my phone the whole night. It was a way to direct all the attention to myself without putting the burden of remembering Circle history on my shoulders. It should have felt liberating to know that any misstep tonight would be totally fine, but it wasn't calming down my anxiety. It continued to ratchet up as I blew past the festive lobby and curious hotel staff directly toward the noise of the party.

Several people were lounging in the gathering space outside the doors of the ballroom on the leather chairs and couches. They were drinking and ashing their cigars directly onto the Persian rugs on the floor, their smoke curling up toward the bright green square motif in the vaulted tray ceiling. Their eyes were either going wide in recognition or narrowed in confusion at the girl in the billowing yellow dress causing a scene around her. As I paused at the threshold into the party to gauge where I needed to go, someone sidestepped to avoid me on their exit, laughing and yelling back into the crowd something in Hebrew. He didn't stop to excuse himself but did a second take and then spun around back into the room at a sprint. Good. They should be worried.

Stellan grabbed my hip to slow me down, but I swung it right out of his hold and took one extra step to avoid his grab. I wasn't sure if he'd done it on purpose or for show. If he tried to calm me down I'd lose my edge and the only thing I'd really ever have going for me with the Circle was the element of surprise. We stormed into the ballroom, and I was met immediately by Daniel and Porsha Meleck, their cheeks flushed, grim smiles across their faces,

"Your Majesties!" Porsha exclaimed far too loud in a room that suspiciously didn't have any music playing in it. Her voice carried and heads started to snap first toward me and then to where I needed to go. I ignored them both, pushing past them without a look of acknowledgment and moved straight to where the crowd was parting around David Meleck.

Just slightly taller than myself, but at least twice my weight, with a full head of gray hair and annoyed purple eyes, he was leaning against one of the giant red marble columns of the ballroom, a cigar in hand, the other tucked into the lapel of his suit jacket as he sized me up. All his fans fluttered away to give us a wide berth. He slapped on a big, fake, smile and stood up straight as he bowed his head and called out,

"Miss West!"

I stormed the final few feet to stand right in front of him, a waft of whiskey and stale cigar assaulting me, and spat,

"_Mrs._ Korolov."

His eyebrows bunched in confusion for a moment and then he glanced behind me and started to nod,

"My deepest apologies. You are newly married after all."

"Is this some kind of joke?" I cracked, glancing around the party at the guests all pretending not to be hanging on every word as they fidgeted.

"Pardon?" David countered, tapping his cigar out onto the marble floors.

"You sent Porsha _yesterday_ to invite me?" I twisted to my left to see her flinch a little in reaction and frowned. "I'm starting to think you didn't want me to come to this."

"She can be so useless at times," he consoled and shot a dark look at Porsha. "I asked for her to deliver it much sooner, I know how busy you are."

"Good. Because I'm never too busy for a party," I huffed and then snapped my fingers toward the waiter slowly weaving through the crowd with a tray of champagne. I grabbed a flute and took a gulp as I looked around at the Machiavellian viper pit surrounding us and dumbly asked, "what's Yom Kippur anyway?"

The biggest, shit eating, grin spread across David Meleck's face and my scar thumped with pain. I was in. Now to keep playing the game. David ashed his cigar again onto the shoes of the person next to him and then spread his arms wide,

"Your Majesty I would be honored to give you a tour of our compound and tell you all about it."

He gave one sharp look toward Daniel and Porsha and then gestured back toward the lobby as the sea of gawkers parted ahead of us. I took another slug of champaign and pulled out my phone.

* * *

"Right, right, the Byzantine empire." I distractedly answered, finishing another blind scroll through my Facebook feed to appear busy, then looked up, "I think I remember that from world history."

Next to me, Stellan made a quiet little noise in his throat as David gave me a thin smile and moved onto the next piece of artwork in his gallery. It was disorienting. Both of their reactions equated to me being a little too callous but for very different reasons. There wasn't much more Stellan could do to try and corral me without jeopardizing our plan. The bigger issue was I didn't know how to pull it back and I could tell I was starting to wear on our host.

He had taken us on a winding tour of the whole penthouse floor of the hotel, explaining the historical importance of the land, the history of the building, the bombing that had nearly destroyed it, and how proud they were of the UNESCO certification. Then he'd started in on his collections. Rooms and rooms of them, each specific and meticulously organized from artifacts to religious relics to finally paintings. I wondered if he'd possibly stolen parts of the Coliseum as well, but I wasn't going to rush him. We were running out of rooms.

Unfortunately, I still hadn't received confirmation from our Order plants that all was clear so I had to keep stalling him. It was strategically simpler to keep him alone than deal with the crowd downstairs. I didn't have Jack or Elodie to cause a distraction. My Stellan manhandling had to be timed. I could only be obnoxiously stupid for so much longer before even I would want to slap myself. I had to think of something.

We made it to the end of the gallery and as he turned and pointed at the last painting on display I couldn't stop my real reaction,

"Is that a Renoir?"

"Good eye," David commended me and then followed up with, "so you do know some art?"

I stiffened at his question knowing I'd made a little misstep in my performance tonight. But it would be easy enough to hide or play down, even though I didn't want to give him the real reason I knew. A lie is always easier to tell if it's shadowed in a half-truth, I'd recalled Elodie saying during our prep. I turned away from both of them to look closer at the painting, quietly answering,

"No. He was my...mother's favorite painter."

The silence held for a moment as I took in the brush strokes and beautifully saturated color. The memory washed over me of the exact way she would sigh whenever we went to a museum that held one of his paintings. I never understood why she loved him, despite her gushing for minutes whenever we'd stand before them in the galleries. My heart ached as I realized now I'd never know. I swallowed hard and felt Stellan's fingers gently run through the ends of my hair a few times as I sniffled and tried to mentally pull back up my act.

David Meleck let out an indifferent huff and said, "I picked it up probably before you were born. My wife thought it was pretty."

Stellan's hand quickly pressed into my back and slid down to grab my hip and I tried to physically force down the ball of word vomit desperate to escape. I didn't know how much longer I could do this. He'd been patronizingly explaining things to me, or glibly telling me what vapid reason he'd acquired his collection piece for. All of this was his reacting off my diva persona I'd been laying on thickly but enough was enough. As if reading my mind Stellan pulled me flush against his chest and kissed my shoulder to console me and then placated my pretend persona with,

"I'll buy you one. Don't worry."

He'd played his part perfectly and I appreciated the moment to collect myself. Mr. Meleck turned away from our PDA to move out of the gallery and back out into the main hallway.

"I thought we could have a nightcap and go over the plans now that you're here. How long are you staying with us?" He asked as he gestured toward the last room in the hall.

"I don't know," I mewled, "there's always some boring meeting I have to be at."

"I think she means to say, we don't want to overstay our welcome. If it was just the party we could be on our way tomorrow morning." Stellan jumped in, trying to amp up my response. Mr. Meleck grinned widely again and opened the door gesturing for us to go in first. It was off-putting and the flash of nerves made my feet stick to the carpet. Stellan gave me a little push and I entered the office first.

I looked around to see more prized possessions behind glass cases and Noa Meleck sitting stiffly on a leather couch, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Our wide eyes met each other before Stellan and David made it into the room and then I blinked, remembering I had to pretend I didn't know her. Elodie had been certain they were going to use her somehow to give us a false sense of security. I flopped into the first armchair I could find, throwing my legs over the arm and crossing my ankles. It showed off a lot of leg and Noa looked away as David made himself busy at the bar cart behind his desk. Stellan frowned at me and I couldn't tell if he was acting or serious, but either way, it was the right move because Mr. Meleck almost dropped the shots when he turned around and saw me.

"From my personal reserve," he explained handing over the shots to Stellan and I and then turned to Noa and handed her one as well. "I'm sure you remember my niece?"

I rolled the shot glass between my pointer and thumb as I sized her up and shrugged, "were you at fashion week?"

"We spoke in South Africa," she tightly answered, clenching the shot in her still folded hands.

I glanced up at Stellan as if trying to remember, but really I was hoping he could give me some kind of direction here. I didn't know what to do - about Noa being in this room, about the shot that could be poisoned, about still not having our all clear from the Order. This was the last stop of the night, you could tell she'd been forcibly removed from the party downstairs the moment earpiece at the front door had alerted them to our presence. She was meant to throw me, and she had for that split second. But I was banking on her disdain for her Uncle to keep this brief.

"At the hotel. The auction in the lobby." Stellan supplied. Opening his eyes wide and I tried to follow his lead.

"Oh, right." I nodded and recrossed my ankles. "The unsanctioned silent auction."

"So embarrassing for the Konings'," David quipped and I snapped my attention to him as I warned,

"You weren't there. I find that to be much more out of line."

My scar instantly lanced with pain and I clenched my jaw to fight it, Stellan shifted uncomfortably next to me.

"I...I…" he stuttered for a moment and then recovered with a quick cough, "I've been battling an illness. I was instructed not to fly, Your Majesty."

"Sure," I rolled my eyes and took the shot. The bourbon stung all the way down and then warmed my belly as it sloshed around with the champagne and the dread that filled my chest. My arm throbbed with every beat of my heart and I realized I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't look at Stellan and I really didn't want to. Everyone else followed suit and I felt my phone buzz in my hand and ignored them all as I looked at it.

"Ooh!" I exclaimed, trying to sound like I'd found a piece of pretty jewelry as the possibly poisoned booze swirled in my stomach. "They'll have my dress ready by Sunday!"

Mr. Meleck quickly moved around the room to gather our empty shot glasses and I smiled at the text,

_No more drinks tonight._

So we were fine. But that still wasn't the text I wanted. It made me want to dart my eyes around the room to find the hidden cameras that had picked up my misstep but instead I locked the phone and glanced back over at Noa.

"What are you doing up here anyway?" I cocked my head at her and she let out a long exhale before slowly and carefully replying,

"To offer to show you around tomorrow."

"I thought you'd enjoy a more authentic tour of the city and Noa spends most of her time...down there." David distractedly finished, waving his hand a bit dismissively toward Jerusalem proper. Noa closed her eyes tight, her jaw visibly flexing and then released everything giving us a big, blank, smile as she agreed,

"I'm your girl."

My phone buzzed again and I shrugged, "sure."

_All set. Sleep tight._

Stellan moved to my chair, resting his hand on the top of it, his body angled toward me and I walked the balls of my feet up his trousers with an artificial giggle and slid down the chair as I pressed them into his belt buckle. His hand instantly snapped to my ankle and he gave me a warning look which I returned with a very snarky smile,

"It's always good to explore new things."

David Meleck cleared his throat and Stellan squeezed my ankle almost too tightly before releasing it and taking a step away, my feet dropping back onto the armchair. I stood, wobbled in my heels, and fell toward his chest with a fake laugh. He grabbed me and held me close, his heart beating so fast and hard in his chest I could feel it against my palm. I slid my hands under his jacket and pressed myself against him with a shake of my ass and purred,

"We've had so much fun _exploring_ all these new cities together."

"Noa," Mr. Meleck exclaimed loudly and I rested my forehead on Stellan's chest, and pressed the pads of my fingers along the length of his sword tattoo so I could try and calm both of us. We were so close to safety now. "I'm sure our guests are tired from all their travel today, why don't you show them to their room?"

"Of course Uncle," she quickly replied and stood moving out into the hallway without a glance back.

With my arms still wrapped around his chest, I turned my head and smiled broadly at our obviously flustered host and said, "thanks, David!"

"We appreciate your hospitality Mr. Meleck. Thank you for accommodating us so quickly." Stellan threw on top of it and then carefully extracted me and grabbed my shoulders to lead me out the door like I was a disobedient toddler.

"Until tomorrow," he called after us and we caught up to Noa already halfway down the hall. The booming music of the party was vibrating up through the walls and I realized our special room was going to be right above the ballroom. I rolled my eyes at the pettiness of it all.

Noa flung open the door and stabbed her hand toward the dark entrance, "I'll bring up your breakfast tomorrow so we can go over the plans."

She was looking at the ground as she said it and I was torn. I knew she'd been compromised, and that this hallway would have eyes and ears even if our room didn't. But I also didn't want her to believe my whole act when clearly she's been disappointed to find me so unworthy of all her previous praise. Stellan sensed my hesitation and made the choice for me,

"Thank you, Noa. Good night." He guided me through the threshold and closed the door before she could even respond. As he turned the lock I flipped on the lights and we both let out a huge exhale, then immediately pulled out our phones. As he went over the Order texts I sent a location pin to Jack and Elodie, set my phone down on the coffee table in the living room outside the bedroom and ripped my dress off over my head.

As my hair settled around my shoulders I let out a giant groan of satisfaction and kicked the dress as far away from me as possible. I bent down to pick up my phone and felt his eyes before I looked over to see them pouring over every inch of exposed skin. _Right,_ I thought. I was practically naked now with all these expensive lingerie looking undergarments, maybe I should have soldiered through it until I had pajamas in hand. I felt the blush rush from my neck down onto my cleavage and he let out the sexiest sounding growl and licked his lips.

My phone buzzed on the coffee table and I snatched it and jumped back up to standing giving him a warning look that only made him smolder further, "not now."

"Later?" He whispered, his smile spreading quickly across his face in hope.

"If we aren't dead," I chastised him. "Where are our bags anyway?"

I made a scan around the room to look for them and then checked my text when I was unsuccessful. Jack and Elodie were on their way, I'd have to find a bathrobe or something because it would be a cold day in hell before I wore that dress again.

"Here," Stellan offered as he tossed his suit jacket at the couch and started pulling at his tie.

"How is that better?" I questioned dropping my phone back down onto the table and moving toward him.

"It's not long enough," he shook his head and quickly unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging out of it and handing it over. I pulled it on, the hem of it hitting mid-thigh, and started at the bottom buttoning the cool feeling fabric when he exhaled some bothered sounding French. I looked up, pausing in my task to ask what was wrong and froze. _Oh no,_ I quickly realized, _this wasn't any better_. With all the soft lighting falling on his hair and bare chest and his five o'clock shadow starting to come through I felt my heart pick up in my chest.

"Just one thing," he whispered and hit his knees as if I'd ordered him to. I let out a squeak of surprise that quickly turned into a soft gasp when his hands slid up the back of my thighs and grabbed my ass underneath the dress shirt. My hands fluttered across his shoulders and then up his neck, threading through his hair to encourage him as the bourbon made my whole body warm with inebriated want. He pushed the shirt higher, bunching it at my waist so he could start kissing the line of my panties first at my hips and then lower. My surprised breath caught in my chest and I dug my fingers into his shoulder to steady myself on my heels, it only made him groan into me and my first shudder of want rippled across my body. Just like that, I was ready. I wanted him to throw me on that bed and take me fast and hard. I wondered for a split second if it was the danger that was making me be so recklessly horny and then someone knocked on the door.

We flew apart, me stumbling back toward the coffee table and him colliding with the couch and then we settled with a significant look at each other. He stood and moved toward the door, checking it and quickly ushering Jack and Elodie in.

Their anxious relief at seeing the two of us safe quickly turned into confusion as they took in our state of undress. I felt my flush grow into an actual blush and finished the final top button on Stellan's dress shirt as I snapped,

"I wasn't wearing that awful dress for a minute longer and we have no clothes."

Jack and Elodie nodded, though their eyes were still suspicious and then looked around the room as well for our missing bags. My phone buzzed on the table and we all jumped and then exhaled. I made the few steps over to it and swiped it open,

_Your help is on the wrong floor. _

I didn't get it, but as the three of them quickly hovered around me to look at the screen I knew one of them would. Stellan whipped out his phone and held it out in front of all of us to type,

_Jack and Elodie are being watched. _

_Send them away._

I gave him an incredulous look shaking my head. But before we could talk about it Jack was already leading Elodie toward the door. I followed them and put my hand on it before he could open it back up. I was not liking this plan at all. They shouldn't have to leave, they needed to stay in here with us. Why were we always being separated in super dangerous situations? Jack gave me a beseeching look and then tapped my hand a few times so I'd lift it. As I did he pulled it open and Elodie rose an eyebrow at me. Right, they were supposed to be in trouble. I wracked my brain thinking of a reason I'd have to send them away and then yelled toward their leaving backs,

"Don't come back without my bags."

"Of course," they both answered and I looked down the hall to see a shadow move into one of the other rooms. I slammed the door shut, locking it immediately, and turned right into Stellan's chest. He pulled me tight against him and I rested my cheek against his hot skin, my arm already getting achy from all his spikes of anxiety.

"Are they going to be okay?" I whispered.

"Of course," he immediately replied, but his thumping heart and building power surge were making him a liar.

"Are we going to be okay?" I whispered next, my breath starting to pick up from the pain, almost matching his still rapidly beating heart.

"If we don't leave this room. The Order secured it and we gave a floor show as to why we shouldn't be disturbed." He answered, smoothing one hand up my back to finger and twirl the ends of my hair.

My breath caught in my chest as I realized what he'd said. At the time I hadn't really meant to tell Mr. Meleck that Stellan and I had been fucking nonstop in every destination we'd been to - mostly because that wasn't true. I'd only meant to 'mount him on the charcuterie table' so we could finally escape to our secure room. We knew the hallway was for sure being watched so the dilemma really boiled down to this - were we actually going to put on a floor show to keep up the front? I would be completely content with laying in the bed and having him stroke my hair and tell me boring stories of his day like we'd been doing recently until I fell asleep curled up against his chest. That would be the normal thing to do. That would be the reasonable thing to do. But nothing about this day had been normal or reasonable.

"Are you tired?" I broke the silence from my musing and he startled from his pets and kissed the top of my head.

"I'm not sleeping," he grumbled.

"Should I stay awake too?" I pulled back to look up in his face for the answer and he shook his head.

"If we do have to go on this tour tomorrow you'll need to have your wits about you to do this all over again with a much bigger audience."

"Right," I exhaled and turned out of his arms, rubbing at the scarring on my own. Somehow, I had to sleep through a death threat. Lovely. It was Egypt all over again. I really didn't want to have flashbacks of that tonight. Maybe sleep could accomplish that if I could manage it. But I doubted I'd be able to if his own panic was going to keep my arm at a dull throb. I moved back over to the couch and kicked my foot up onto the arm so I could undo the buckle on my ridiculous shoes.

"Wait," Stellan said behind me and I froze. My head quickly snapped around the room, looking at the corners for cameras and then over at him and the surprising blush quickly seeping from his cheeks down onto his neck. The pain in my arm unraveled completely and the realization dawned on me. So I guess there would be a floor show.

"Yes?" I slowly asked, barely containing my smirk. He smirked back and then bit his lip and nodded, his eyes zeroed in on my shoes,

"I want to take those off with my teeth."

* * *

It was the Russian grumbling that woke me up. Rolling over I cracked open an eye to see a blurry Stellan, sitting on the bed, fully dressed, grumbling at his phone. He was glaring so hard at it I didn't even bother with a good morning. I was glad, though, the clothes had arrived sometime in the night because quite a few buttons were missing on his shirt now. I slid out of the bed and made my way into the bathroom to get ready as he started stabbing a reply with his pointer finger. That wasn't a great sign. After finishing up in the bathroom I silently made my way around the bedroom looking for the bags and trying not to disturb his brooding when he grumbled,

"_Kuklachka, gostinnaya_."

"Ummm," I stalled trying to make my sleepy brain filter through my fifty words of Russian to see if I knew what he'd just said when he locked his phone and gave me an apologetic smile.

"The living room. Elodie dropped off our bags at 2AM."

"So you didn't sleep?" I ventured a guess and then made my way toward the luggage. He pushed off the bed, following me and shook his head. That wasn't a great sign either.

"We aren't staying." He replied, glancing around the room and then pulling out his phone again. It was buzzing so much I thought it was a call, but he started typing.

"Okay," I quietly replied and made quick work of pulling out my change of clothes and toiletries bag and zipping it back up. On my way to the bathroom, I picked up my own phone that he'd put on my side table in the night and saw that I was at sixty messages and counting. My hand clenched around it as the first ping of pain fluttered in my scar. I didn't even bother to look at the messages. There wasn't really a need when I had my own danger barometer slowly boiling in the living room.

Pulling my yellow lattice knit sweater over my black shirt and skinny jeans I made my way back out to the living room to pull out some flats. I'd shoved my phone into my back pocket and with every vibration, my arm thumped with pain. I pressed my lips tight trying to corral the grunt of discomfort when there was a sharp knock at our door. My eyes met Stellan's before we both turned toward the second knock and he stomped over, opening it for a maid carrying a huge tray of breakfast. She greeted us brightly in Hebrew and expertly slid around the furniture making her way toward the only room I hadn't seen yet in our suite. I didn't move from my perch on the couch, wasn't Noa supposed to bring us breakfast?

The lights flipped on to reveal a dining room of sorts with an ancient looking wood table and four chairs. I stood and slowly made my way toward it, noticing it didn't branch off into a kitchenette or any other room. There was only a desk set against the far wall. It was an odd layout, but it was an ancient hotel, maybe they were trying to utilize the small space they had?

The maid gestured toward the table and then pulled out a chair for me. She busied herself with setting up the large, unusual, spread of food: poached eggs in some kind of tomato sauce, a cucumber and tomato salad, an assortment of bread, little dishes of olives and hummus and yogurt, with a platter of smoked fish and cheeses. There was also a pitcher of orange juice, a french press of coffee and a pot of tea.

As I sat she poured me a glass of juice and started to serve a little bit of everything on my plate. It was an overwhelming amount of food and I wondered if it was meant to be some kind of peace offering from the Meleck's, though I seriously doubted it.

"Do you speak English?" I tentatively asked the girl as she started to serve up Stellan's still empty spot. She shook her head, giving me an apologetic smile as he entered the room. Without even greeting her he sat down at his seat, eyes still glued to the phone and I felt a little huff of indignation start to build in my chest. Was he ever going to look away from that thing? Or at least clue me into what was so damn important in the first place? It would take less time for him to tell me than to decipher over sixty text messages.

Our phones buzzed simultaneously as the maid poured his glass of orange juice. I picked up my own to take a sip when in one fluid move Stellan tossed his phone down, grabbed the serrated knife from his table setting, yanked the arm of the maid down to the table and slammed his knife through the top of her hand pinning her to the wood. Blood splattered into my face, the girl screamed and Stellan reached across the table, wrenched the cup out of my hand and hurled it at the wall. It shattered and splashed to the floor as the girl let out another wail.

"Fuck!" I yelled, startling backward from the table and out of my chair.

"_Kto otdal prikaz?_" He demanded from her. My mind started reeling - that was Russian. Why would this maid know Russian? She refused to answer him, blubbering in Hebrew and he twisted the knife in her hand. She screamed, blood squirted all over the food and started dripping down the table.

"Stellan stop!" I screamed over it all, but he ignored me completely. That's when I heard the banging on the door. It sounded like someone was trying to break it open as if it had been locked, which didn't make sense because we hadn't relocked it once she came in.

"Who gave the order?" Stellan barked at her. She was shaking and sobbing, her eyes transfixed to her wound still gushing blood as she begged,

"I don't know! I don't know!"

He leaned toward her and snarled, "then you drink the juice."

She swung her eyes from her hand to his face and glared at him, all the hysterics suddenly gone and I sucked in a startled gasp. The front door splintered open behind us as the shock of it all froze me in place. Then hands grabbed my triceps and tried to turn me away from all the gore as Jack closed in on the other side of the maid.

"Come on Avery," Elodie urged me and I made my feet move as she marched me toward the door.

"W..wait," I finally stuttered, "what are you…"

"You don't want to see this." She whispered in my ear as we clipped toward the mangled front door.

BANG!

I jumped in her hands, she squeezed me back down, giving me soft words of encouragement as she pushed me down the hall, then down seven flights of stairs, through the laundry room and out into a waiting SUV. Once I was in a seat she slammed the door shut, the sounding bang startling me again, and I looked down at my blood splattered sweater and shaking hands. I bit my lip and tasted blood and nausea overwhelmed me. I tried to hold back the vomit as the door wrenched open and the three of them slid in, the car moving before the door was even locked.

The absolute silence made my next gag seem incredibly loud and shook all of them into action as they frantically searched around the car for me. Elodie finally offering up her purse with a morose frown toward it. I shook my head but she nodded, dumping all the contents onto the seat between us and setting it in my lap,

"Buy me a new one."

I nodded, shoved my head in and heaved.

* * *

The water was starting to go cold against my hands as I forced them to cup another palmful and wash my face again. My contacts were making my eyes sting from all the hard water and I turned the faucet off and grabbed the sides of the sink with my waterlogged fingers. They started to shake again, my rings slipping down to my knuckle and clinking against the metal as I tried to force them to stop. But I couldn't. Everything inside me was shaking and expanding, building toward a breaking point that I didn't know how to stop. I felt like I needed to scream, and I doubted you'd hear much over the roar of these engines, but I didn't know if I would ever stop screaming if I did. I didn't know if I could leave this bathroom. It felt like the only thing containing my fracture. If I left everything would be big and real and scary and it was just too much.

"_Lyubov' moya?_"

I jumped at his voice and then tried to force a breath through all my panic.

"You've been in there for an hour. Are you okay?"

I started shaking my head and then looked up in the mirror at myself. My hair was stringy all over my face from the splashes of water, with red-ringed eyes and a tremble to my lip that looked absolutely pathetic. My hands started shaking again and I snatched them up to shove them under my armpits.

"Avery?" His voice took on an edge of panic and the handle jiggled on the locked door.

"No." I managed to force through my teeth.

"No what?" He immediately answered. _Everything_, I thought. _Everything is no_.

"Can I came in?" He pleaded.

"You won't fit in here." I sighed looking around the elegant but still small bathroom. I probably should have taken the one in the bedroom at the back of the plane but I didn't know if I was going to make it that far. I'd thrown up again before I'd started scrubbing all the blood off.

"Can I try?" He implored, shaking the handle again. I reached forward and unlocked it and he slowly opened the door and surveyed the space before sliding in and locking it. He was crouching a little and rolling his shoulders to fit as he glanced at the dirty sink and then me. And I burst into tears. He reached for me, one hand sliding up and down my arm as I sucked down stuttering breaths between my weeping. He forced his way around me by sliding himself along the wet sink and then sat down on the toilet and pulled me onto his lap.

I buried my face in his neck and kept sobbing, trying to get out broken fragments of thoughts but there were just single words. Scary. Stupid. Blood. He squeezed me closer, not saying anything as I continued to cry until my body wouldn't let me anymore. As I slumped against him with fatigue I finally managed,

"It's always blood. There's always blood on my hands."

"Oh, Avery," he whispered and squeezed me until I couldn't breathe. I welcomed it, feeling the parts of me that felt like they would break out of the containment of this bathroom force their way back into my own body.

"I thought I was smarter now, after everything we've been through. But I'm still stupid."

He squeezed me again, my meltdown slowly subsiding the longer his arms viced themselves around me.

"You're not stupid." He consoled with a kiss to my lanky hair. "I will always protect you. You don't have to be scared."

I nodded against his shirt, but I didn't know how to feel. I'd followed that girl into the dining room. I'd tried to be nice to her. I'd almost drank that juice.

"Attention," came over the loudspeaker in the plane, "the Captain has asked for everyone to return to their seats at this time. We'll instruct you when it's safe to move about the cabin again. Thank you."

I pressed harder into his shirt. I didn't want to leave this bathroom. I sure as shit didn't want to deal with Jack and Elodie's worried, or worse, empathetic frowns in my direction. He strong-armed me up, unlocked the door for us, and led me to the back of the plane, far away from the low whispers at the front. I sat near the window, staring out at the white clouds whipping past underneath us as he grabbed my hand and squeezed.

He didn't let go. Not for the remaining four hours of the flight, or as he helped me down the stairs to the town car, or even on the ride back as I felt Jack and Elodie's eyes flick toward me with every shaky exhale and sniffle. As we made it to the final stretch I finally looked over at Stellan and asked,

"How did you know?"

"Blue bracelet," Stellan and Jack answered at the same time.

"The Order texted us right before she came in." Elodie turned her phone toward me and flashed the chain I'd been ignoring all morning. There at the bottom:

_Remove the blue bracelet_

I nodded and turned back to the window. As the car slowed I had never been more grateful to see the imposing iron gate of Riberton opening up. I hadn't even noticed a single piece of jewelry on that girl. I doubted I would have even understood that text I'd been so out of the loop. All because I'd been too annoyed by my phone. Elodie's continued frustration with me was finally starting to make sense. Everyone and everything had to be constantly 'baby-proofed' because I wasn't paying attention. I had to hold myself accountable now. Because unlike all the murder and mayhem that had happened to people around me before, this time the hit had actually been for me.


	21. Chapter 20

"What about this one?" He asked breaking up my power nap in the car. I yawned into his shoulder and then blinked hard a few times as the picture slowly came into focus - of an English Foxhound.

"No way," I grumbled.

He chuckled above me and continued with, "you don't want to live the dream? Throwing a red ball out onto the heather fields for your four English Foxhounds as you chase them in your wellies and oversized sweater?"

I sat up in my seat and turned to face him, an eyebrow rising on my forehead. "Do you? That's pretty specific."

He shook his head, smiling at me, "but you're English."

"No, I'm not," I cracked back with mild American annoyance as the car slowed to a stop. Unease ballooned in my chest and I glanced out the window, just a stoplight, we still had more time.

"Technically, you're half English," he corrected. I pushed all my turmoil back down as I rolled my eyes at him.

"And technically you're half Swedish." I crossed my arms over my black leather jacket, "why aren't you making me meatballs and building me affordable yet oddly named furniture?"

Stellan laughed and then put a hand on my leg to steady me as the car started moving again. I grabbed it, needing the contact, he threaded our fingers and pulled me back against his side, unlocking his phone one handed as he kept playing some game he'd been addicted to lately, mumbling, "so no hunting dogs."

I dug in deeper against him despite all the building heat from our jackets and the heater blasting at us. The car slowed and then parked and I let myself have one small groan of anxiety as we waited for the driver.

"It's going to be fun," he said squeezing my fingers.

"That's what you said about the last four restaurants." I sighed.

Between the full Saxon calendar, the unending Order meetings and the constant Circle lunches and galas, we also were scheduling all the upcoming holiday events I'd have to attend, and the dresses I'd have to wear. As if that wasn't enough, Elodie had been scheduling late-night restaurant outings during London's Restaurant Festival - for the last four Friday's in a row. It was all part of her master plan to control both narratives since Jerusalem. For the Saxon side, it put to rest all those whispers that I'd survived yet another terrorist attack - because surely I wouldn't be out and about after something as horrific as that. Especially considering how long my 'mourning' had been after Egypt. For the Circle side, it made all the Family's, allied and otherwise, extremely nervous that I appeared completely unfazed after an attempt on my life. Our plane hadn't even left the tarmac in Israel before that story was being hissed through the Family's.

The car bounced a little as the driver got out and I couldn't stop myself from wrapping my free hand around our joined ones and squeezing them.

"Again?" Stellan whispered, but it sounded so loud in our soundproof car. I nodded, too worked up to expand on why. He leaned down, pressing his lips to my temple, over and over. I closed my eyes, breathing him in and trying to reset for this. Not that it would help much.

The door opened and the flashes started immediately, along with the shouting questions. I ignored them, sticking like glue to Stellan's side and letting him guide me through the crowd to the front of Kitty Fisher's. It was an odd little restaurant with the bar right up front to one side and on the other small round tables squeezed together with volitives floating in the tempered glass between the table settings. It was dark and Victorian looking, with dreary paintings on the walls and dim light fixtures hanging from the ceiling. A long, red velvet tufted couch on the back wall was seating at least six people, laughing and drinking. Even more were going upstairs, pushing through the crowd of waiters and patrons filling the small space.

I was already far too warm in the loud, claustrophobic entry. I shrugged out of my jacket, Stellan took it from me as we waited for the hostess to show us to our table. I highly doubted it was downstairs considering the raucous crowd. I eyed them all, suspiciously, until Stellan bumped my side, giving me a bright smile and I nodded and turned on my fake one.

The reason this stop was so special was because the chef was going to be named Newcomer of the Year for the London Restaurant Festival tonight. He didn't know that, but we did, and Elodie had made sure there were gossip columnists peppered throughout the place to ensure our names were listed when the news made the rags the next morning. We followed the hostess through the tables toward the steep set of stairs, with heads whipping to get a second look at us, which I had expected. But what I hadn't expected was my double takes as I realized I was recognizing some of these faces. They became even more familiar as we made it to the second floor. There were only a dozen tables arranged up here, with another bar tucked into the corner and you could tell this was where all the A-Listers were being stashed. Actors, actresses, politicians, and there, already seated at our table - Luc Dauphin. I forwent all propriety and rushed toward him with a little squeal of excitement, almost knocking him out of his chair with the hug I gave him.

"_Ma reine_," he exclaimed, laughing and hugging me back just as fiercely. When we settled I sat right next to him, making Stellan have to sit across from us. He gave Luc a hard swat to the shoulder and threw our jackets onto the empty chair.

I turned to Luc wanting to hug him again, but felt all the eyes on me and stopped myself. "What are you doing here?"

The waiter brought over bread and butter and a round of delicious looking drinks for the table. I tore off a piece of bread, just to make it look like I was going to eat. Luc took a long swallow of the drink and then pushed mine closer, making it cling against all my silverware. He waited, narrowing his eyes the longer I stalled. I supposed I could trust it if he was already drinking. I grabbed it and he nodded, satisfied. Then he paused, for dramatic effect, and announced,

"Our favorite harpy said she'd pick up the tab if I could get the two of you to smile tonight."

"Elodie," I grumbled and swirled my drink around with the black straw before taking a tiny sip. My face puckered from all the booze that was sitting at the bottom of the glass and I opened my eyes back up to see Stellan and Luc locked in some kind of eye conversation. It quickly escalated into French and I took another sip as the waiter set down our questionable looking appetizer. It might be fish? I could still see the silver and black skin on it. He turned and left without even explaining and I looked over to see them now gesturing toward each other as the French started sounding more and more harassed. People were taking notice and I put my hand on Luc's arm, startling him out of his tirade and commanded,

"Would you two behave?" They simultaneously leaned back in their chairs, glaring at each other, but complying, and I tacked on, "and English please."

Luc immediately huffed, "you coddle her."

Stellan glared at him and then grabbed his drink downing half of it in two swallows. He picked up one of the appetizers and ate it without even really looking at it as I squeezed Luc's arm and squeaked out,

"Me?"

"No," Luc gave me a patronizing side eye and snatched an appetizer as well, "Elodie."

"It's not coddling if it's keeping me sane," I lowly snapped back. "It has not been easy since Jerusalem."

"I know," he lamented. He waved over the waiter and made a little circle with is pointer finger around all our drinks on the table. He and Stellan quickly drained the rest of their beverages and then he shifted his chair so he could look at me and continued, "everyone knows. You look like shit, both of you."

"Luc," Stellan warned.

"Shit?" I echoed.

"Elodie's plan doesn't really work if you look like death warmed over _mon ami._" He answered, giving Stellan a knowing look and taking the last appetizer from the plate.

"I'm trying," I quietly started, feeling the burnout and disquiet start to crowd out all the happiness his surprising me had created.

"Avery," he grabbed my hand and squeezed, "this wasn't even the sixth time someone almost killed you."

Stellan let out a disgusted noise from his throat across the table, sucking in a breath like he was about to start another French tirade against Luc, but I beat him to the punch. I ripped my hand out from his and darkly replied, "this was different."

He grabbed both my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes as he firmly commanded, "stop. You're stronger than this."

He didn't look away, he barely even blinked, waiting to see the realization in me. At first, I was still too shocked to even respond. We'd spent close to a month ignoring all the weird quirks I was picking up as I grappled with the aftermath of Jerusalem. I knew him commanding me to stop wasn't going to solve anything. If that were the case Elodie's glares alone would have made me Teflon by now. But it would be nice to have one night that felt normal. It had become such a subjective idea the further I got from ditching my school with Jack and Stellan. But shouldn't I be allowed a night out drinking with my friends? I could at least pretend for him, I'd started to at least get good at that. And who knew what he'd gone through to get here tonight. I nodded, giving him one of my big, fake, smiles.

"Perfect! I hope you're ready," he steepled his fingers and brought them to his lips, contemplating as he looked toward the bar, "because I'm about to buy this whole floor a round of shots. I am free from the shackles of my imprisonment, someone is paying for all my shenanigans, and I will be crashing at your castle."

"Finally!" I clapped quite a few times, heads turning toward us. A sly smile pulled across Luc's face as he surveyed the crowd as well. He leaned across our table toward Stellan to lowly ask,

"Can I bring home a date?"

Stellan narrowed his eyes at him in a very brotherly sort of way and intoned, "as long as you follow the rules."

"Buzzkill," he huffed and I couldn't stop the laugh that rolled out of me and filled the noisy restaurant around us.

* * *

I kept my head down and close to Jack as he and Niall cleared the way for me to walk into Alexander McQueen. As the doors locked behind me, the noise still reverberating the glass windows, I made it up to the counter and stopped to take a breath. Jack and Niall, we're barking orders at the rest of our security detail about ensuring easy access to leave as I tried to reset.

Outings, of any kind, had now become a logistical nightmare. Elodie's 'master plan' was working, but it certainly wasn't controlling the crowds. There was double the press and onlookers anywhere I went and their questions were getting much more impatient sounding. Elodie and I were almost positive several of them had been paid off by the Meleck's to rile up the crowds but I just didn't know anymore. That seemed like a stupid move for them to make, considering we'd 'believed' their lie of a lone agent infiltrating their ranks to murder me. This was compounded by the Order consistently relaying back to us that the Melecks were still angry that their plan hadn't worked.

"_Cherie_!" Luc called out to me and I shook my head a few times trying to blink away the flashes and calm the tinnitus in my ringing ears.

"Did they bombard you too?" I asked removing my sunglasses and setting my bag on the counter.

"Who?" He was genuinely confused.

"The press core out there," I gestured toward the flashes we could still see through the window.

"No," he smirked, "I had them drop me off in the back."

"Christ, why didn't I think of that?" I grumbled to myself putting my hands over my face. He tugged them down and led me over to the sitting area outside the changing rooms that had been rearranged to accommodate the two of us and lunch.

"What do you need from here anyway?" He wondered pushing me down onto one of the couches.

"Silence." I exhaled and then gave him a small frown. He made the motion of zipping his lips closed with a little laugh.

"Not your silence. All this other bullshit." I waved back toward the front.

"Why don't you eat some lunch and I'll find something appropriate for you." He offered.

"It better not offend a 90-year-old woman who loves to verbally torture her guests," I called after him and laid down on the sofa, my feet up on one end and my left arm slung over my eyes.

"Another date with Prince Harry?" He teased.

"He needs to give me an update on Jack's progress on the polo team." I bantered back.

Luc's laugh filled the empty store and someone pushed my feet off the sofa on their way toward the other. I lifted my arm, already smirking as Jack gave me a sour look and grumbled,

"Very funny."

"Shouldn't you be Keepering?" I scolded, narrowing my eyes at him. Luc repeated my made up phrase and started laughing again deeper in the store.

"How else will Niall learn?" Jack countered and shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

"Where is the lovely Mrs. Bishop?" Luc called over as he returned with an armload of dresses.

"Ha!" Jack let out a loud barking laugh.

"Am I so wrong? All of you paired off in that castle." Luc grumbled and tossed the dresses on the back of the couch.

"Elodie left for Spain this morning." I reached over and grabbed a bottle of Pellegrino. "She's trying to make it back for tonight, but the Order works on its own schedule."

"And our fearless leader? Why can he only make it to dinner?" Luc pushed and I took a swig and shrugged.

"Keeper meeting," Jack supplied. "He's been working with the Family Keepers to figure out how the new Keys will work after Avery's decree."

"You are all far too busy," Luc said flopping down onto the couch next to me. I leaned over and rested my head on his shoulder as I wistfully said,

"Remember when it was just treasure hunting in the Mediterranean?"

"Remember when it was weeks on end in Monte Carlo?" Luc sighed toward Jack and he nodded in response.

"I'm feeling pretty jipped out of an authentic Circle relaxation trip." I sniveled and sat up grabbing one of the pre-made salads and ripping the plastic lid off.

They both just laughed in response. I dug into the salad and managed to get the first bite down when my phone started buzzing in my pocket. Luc pointed accusatorially at my phone and then pulled a salad toward himself as I glanced at the number, not recognizing it.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Korolov?" The prim voice anxiously asked.

"This is she," I slowly answered, it felt so weird to say that.

"We've been trying to reach your husband as well, but he's been unavailable. We need you to come to St. Lucia's."

"Why?" My question was tight and terse and Luc and Jack looked up from their lunch at me.

"No reason to be concerned. Anya is fine, but there is an issue we need to have addressed and we need a parent present." She tried to console me but the panic was already flooding through my veins.

"I'm on my way." I answered, tossing my salad at the table, the fork vaulting off toward the floor.

"Again, please don't be alarmed. Anya will be waiting in the health office when you arrive."

The health office?! So she was in some kind of trouble. I couldn't believe we were just hearing about this now.

"Where is Steven? Why didn't he contact us?" I demanded as I stood, Jack mirroring me.

"Again, Mrs. Korolov, Anya is fine. She specifically asked that we call you first, but when you didn't answer we called your husband as well. We're so glad you've picked up." She let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh no," I whispered, Jack and Luc's eyes went wide and then I sat back down with a thud on the sofa wincing. "We'll be right there."

I hung up, pocketing my phone as the pain started to crescendo in my scar and radiate toward my fingers. Jack was shifting his weight back and forth as his eyes followed every swipe up and down my sweater covered scar.

"What's wrong?" Luc demanded.

"Something with Anya. She's fine," I pacified to slow down their obvious anxiety and then turned to Jack. "We have to beat him there."

Jack nodded, seeming to already know why I was worried. But Luc shot in, "why?"

"He's going to murder the staff if he gets there first. He's too worked up." I automatically answered, clenching my fist with a grimace.

"Pardon?" Luc gasped.

"Sorry Luc, I have to go." I stood and rushed over to the counter to grab my purse.

"You're not even going to tell me what this is all about?" He called after me and Niall appeared from behind a rack of coats and gestured toward the back exit. I looked over to see Jack already waiting for me. Luc crossed his arms over his suit jacket, harassed and a little hurt and I closed the space between us to pull him into a tight hug.

"Go back to Riberton. I'm sorry." Then I turned to Jack and ordered, "let's go."

* * *

Jack and I jumped out of the car, our heads whipping around to see if we'd actually managed to beat Stellan to the school. With a quick nod to each other, we made our way toward the giant oak double doors, the heels on my boots clacking across the cobblestone as I almost had to run to keep up with him.

One of the front doors swung open and the Headmistress waved to us as she called out, "Mrs. Korolov!"

Her hand stopped mid-wave as she looked behind me. Jack flipped around, but I already knew it was him, my arm flared with pain and I shoved my fist into my scar to try and alleviate some of it.

"Jack go find Stephen - right now," I growled at him. Jack tore his eyes away from the parking car and pushed past the headmistress into the school. I took a big breath and spun around marching toward his car. His driver was moving around the back to get the door for him, though he didn't need to, it was already cracked. I grabbed the door, wrenched it all the way open, and called over to the driver,

"Give us a minute."

He stopped, alarmed, then nodded and I slid into the car, pushing against Stellan and ordering, "move out of my way."

"What the fuck?" He growled at me but complied and I slammed the door shut and locked it. The afternoon light was coming through the tint on the windows enough to make out every detail of his scowl.

"You have to calm down." I urged him, clenching my fist again.

"I will not…" he started to say, sliding his arm across my lap to try and unlock the door. I pressed my left hand against his mouth and met his furious eyes as I calmly expanded with,

"Everyone is already scared of you. Please don't give them a reason to know why they really should be."

He probably said something snarky against my palm but I didn't move it, even as he pulled back I followed him and continued,

"Anya is fine. She's safe. Do not embarrass her by trying to murder everyone in the school."

He grabbed my wrist and yanked it off as he narrowed his eyes and growled, "I wouldn't have killed them."

"Fine, maim them."

"Avery," he growled, squeezing my wrist.

"Stellan," I reprimanded giving him a warning look. He finally cracked, his frown lifting at the corners and I relaxed as the pain in my arm started to relent. "Can you behave?"

"I promise nothing."

The door behind me unlocked and opened up. He squeezed my wrist one more time before we exited together and followed the Headmistress into the school.

"I apologize for the urgency of the calls, but time is of the essence in a case like this." She explained as we all quickly made our way down the empty hallway toward her office. Holding open the door she ushered the two of us inside, leaving the rest of our detail in the corridor, minus Jack and Stephen who hadn't made it back yet. As she circled her massive glass topped, executive desk she gestured to the two high back chairs on the opposite side and we both sat at the very edge of our seats.

"What seems to be the issue?" I asked, more calmly than I truly felt, folding my hands in my lap and clenching my fingers as my arm flared with a spike of pain. She nodded, looked down at a stack of files to her right to reset and then started in a lower tone as if it was something sordid,

"It was no fault of her own, of course. These things happen. Certainly after visiting third world countries." The woman was rambling and I felt a sudden desire to shake whatever it was out of her, "But I'm afraid when she borrowed Matilda's riding helmet she was infected."

Stellan leaned toward the desk preparing for what I could sense was going to be an epic anxious parent tirade. But I was more confused than anything. I put my hand on his knee, squeezing, and asked before he could,

"Infected with what exactly?"

"Lice," the Headmistress whispered, her eyebrows shooting up toward her thinning hairline.

I wanted to laugh with relief, but her serious face made me swallow it back down. Instead, I let go of my hold on Stellan and settled back in my chair. He followed suit but shot me a peculiar look. Did he really not know what lice was? The Headmistress collapsed back into her own seat fretting,

"I'm afraid it's turned into quite the epidemic here. We found out about Anya's contraction of it this morning, so she'll need to leave the school until she's clean. We're actually considering shutting the school down for two weeks since the outbreak is just exploding out of our control at the moment. Delouse the school, curb the spread, try and do some damage control."

"That seems like the right course of action," I agreed. "It's just so contagious."

"Indeed." She nodded and stood, "let me take you to the infirmary so you can escort her home."

We followed her out and into the hall which now held Jack, Stephen and two of our security detail waiting for our arrival. Stephen couldn't even make eye contact with us, his face was ashen with terror. The Headmistress took us down a few winding hallways until we were in front of a door with a giant red cross on the front. I looked around at our six-deep group and sighed, I highly doubted she wanted an audience this big for something as embarrassing as lice.

"Let me handle this."

"Shouldn't I," Stellan asked and I shook my head, sliding in with the Headmistress and closing the door firmly behind me.

There were half a dozen girls sitting on the cots arranged in the space. The nurse gave us a grim smile as she combed through the hair of a redhead, her hands covering her face as we passed. Anya was on one of the last cots, pulling her hair in front of her scars as she stared blankly ahead. When the Headmistress called out to her she jerked from her thoughts and turned to look at me, all her anxiety melting away.

"You came," she exhaled.

"Of course!" I replied and gave a small smile to the Headmistress as she left us to go check in with the nurse.

"I'm sorry," she said down to her hands.

"Honey, this wasn't your fault," I consoled and stood in front of her moving to grab her chin and then thinking twice about it. I grabbed her hands instead.

Looking around at all the other miserable girls I realized there was probably a much higher stigma about lice at a place as prestigious as St. Lucia's than I'd ever encountered at my schools. When I'd caught lice in fifth grade my mother had explained to me, as she'd meticulously combed through my hair, that it didn't mean I was dirty or poor - like all the girls at the school were teasing me about. I didn't believe her until those same girls also came down with lice. But even that hadn't lifted my spirits at the time, I doubted it would help Anya at this moment either. I tugged her hands and helped her off the bed,

"Let's get out of here."

I thanked the Headmistress and nurse on our way out, held open the door for her and almost ran into her back when she froze at the crowd of people waiting in the hallway. Her neck was instantly red under her collared shirt and she skittered backward toward me in her recovery. Stellan leaned down, about to pull her into a hug, when I reached forward and strong-armed him away.

"Everyone stay away from her hair," I explained. Anya slumped in front of me and then pushed past our group, dragging her feet down the hallway toward the front of the school.

* * *

The entryway outside Anya's bathroom was getting crowded. She continued to sit in silence on the dining room chair I'd plopped in the center of the tile as we all strategized. Stellan was on the phone with the school, Jack would be back any minute with every single lice product he and Gemma could procure at the local store, and Luc was working his connections to see if there was a faster, easier way to remedy this issue. I was the only one that knew there wasn't. There was really only one way to get rid of lice and it wasn't pretty.

"It's official," Stellan said next to me and pocketed his phone, "they're shutting down the school for two weeks."

"It's that bad?" I looked at him, surprised, and he shrugged.

"Apparently half the school is infected now as well as all the sports equipment."

"Yikes," I whispered and we both looked over as Anya let out a miserable huff. Luc hung up next shaking his head,

"I suppose the good news is that all the other girls that have been treated were told it wasn't the super lice that can't be killed."

"So there isn't an easy way out of this?" Stellan asked. The door opened behind us and we turned to see Jack holding two bags filled with products.

"You could hire a professional," Luc offered and out of the corner of my eye I saw Anya stiffen and start shaking her head ever so slightly. I wouldn't subject her to that. No point in taking her to some professional place if we could handle it here. Especially considering just how much coverage followed Stellan and me wherever we went. Jack handed over the bags and I opened the first one up,

"Alright, I'll need Stellan to…"

"Woah, woah, woah," Stellan cut over me. "I'm not helping with this."

"What?" I snapped my eyes up from the bag and glared at him. The three of them were already backing away from me down the hallway.

"We had lice outbreaks in the dorms and every time they'd just shave our heads," Jack said in a very calming tone as if it would pacify me.

"My hair is far too expensive," Luc shook his head, vehemently.

To the right of us Anya let out a noise of worry and I turned to her, "we're not shaving your head."

Then I swung the bag toward them like a bullfighter, making them all back up simultaneously down the hall and out of Anya's line of sight.

"So you'd have me shave my head instead?" I seethed. They all looked away from me and I shoved an accusatory finger toward them, the other bag swinging and abashed them with my low hiss of, "you vain bastards."

They looked down at their feet and I spun on the heel of my boot and stomped into the bathroom slamming the door behind me. I set the bags down on the counter and then turned to a mortified Anya, her fingers digging into the tops of her hands.

"Don't worry Anya. I've had lice before. I know what to do."

"You have?" She looked up at me with huge blue eyes of hope and I smiled back down at her.

"Oh yeah," I smoothly lied, and read the claim on one of the fronts of the boxes as I soothed, "you'll be just fine in a couple days. And you'll get to stay home with us!"

"That would be nice," she nodded and shook out her hands. I pulled my hair up into a bun at the top of my head and then started comparing all the different product Jack had brought back.

"Already sick of school?" I laughed. "I thought you liked it? Stellan told me that you've always done well in your classes back in Russia."

"The classes are fine." Was the only thing she offered. I turned to see her frowning down at the pleats in her skirt and pushed,

"Is it the teachers? The girls?"

"It's all very different. My life is so different now," she sighed. I had the urge to just unload onto her how much I could sympathize with that sentiment but I held back and gave her a noise of agreement. Her outburst before South Africa had needed time to work its way out of her, so I turned back to the bags and found a prescription that claimed it would kill everything in ten minutes. That would be the winner. I ripped open the box and started reading the instructions when she finally started to elaborate.

"It's much harder than Moscow because it's all in English."

"Oh," I stopped reading the instructions. We hadn't really thought of that.

"I'm in the one...help class...with all the other girls that speak other languages. But it just gets very hard." She shook her head, "and I get confused sometimes because I'm also taking French."

"I'm, literally, the only person in this house that can't help you with that." I gave her a sympathetic frown and turned back to my reading. I wanted to give her space to get the real reason out because I highly doubted being so smart you were confusing all the languages you knew wasn't the reason she didn't like school.

The instructions were, mercifully, very straightforward. Apply the whole bottle to the scalp, wait ten minutes, wash out the carcasses. I wouldn't even have to comb through her hair, though a part of me thought I still should, just to be safe. I found a box of latex gloves in the second bag, snapped some on, and then punctured the seal to open the medication when she took a big breath and let it all whoosh out of her,

"I don't understand these girls. Some of them don't talk to me. And then some are only my friend sometimes. And no one speaks Russian."

"I'm sorry," I soothed and squeezed her shoulder, my glove crinkling with the motion. She turned and looked up at me with her huge, sad, eyes and quietly begged,

"Can I just stay? With you and Stellan? Do I have to go back?"

_Oh boy,_ I thought, trying to steal myself. It was surreal to be on the receiving end of this specific request. I must have begged my mother to stay home at least 100 times. It ranged from feigning illness to staging fits, to outright refusal, and always ended in tears and begging. As I got older I could tell it hurt her to have to tell me no, but she still did it anyway, because it was the right thing to do.

"You'd be all alone. We're never here anymore." I tried to pacify. I suddenly realized how tough this must have been for Stellan for years because I could see in her face she was going to keep trying. Did I sympathize with her as a friend or did I insist upon her like a mother? I really wasn't either of those things, but she had asked specifically for me to come to St. Lucia's - not Stellan.

"That's fine! I'd have tutors and riding all day anyway." She countered, her lips scrunching together as if getting ready for a pout. She had a point, that was one of the scenarios that had been discussed for her, but I took a breath and shook my head.

"You need to be around other people your age, it's good for you."

"I know," her pouty lip trembled and this welling of sympathy almost made me crack. She sniffled and wiped at her face and I pressed my lips together so I didn't cave into the pressure. Keeping her would be a mistake. She would have to be around Circle children the rest of her life now and if she didn't know how to interact with all of them, especially the ones that didn't like her, it was going to make her life incredibly hard. I was never going to get the kind of deep exposure we could afford to give her by going to St. Lucia's. Maybe she couldn't appreciate it now, but she would later.

"You begged me to go there," I firmly reminded her. "I had to fight Stellan for you."

"I know," she sniffled, tears running down her face now and started nodding her head, knowing she'd lost the battle. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, you should always tell me how you feel." I crouched down in front of her so I could look up into her face. "It will get better."

"You think?" She blinked away some tears and looked deep into my eyes for the answer. I automatically nodded, even though my past experience had been the exact opposite. But then again I wasn't trying to make friends, at least those last couple of years. I couldn't plant that seed of doubt within her just because of my past. She was so kind and bubbly I was sure the right girls would find her eventually and it would solve all her turmoil. She let out a miserable sigh and looked back down at her hands, clamming back up into herself and I got to work on her hair.

While we waited the ten minutes for it to murder the infestation I tried to pry more information out of her, about the girls, about her classes, about the school in general but she wasn't very forthcoming. The only things she would talk about were her equestrian classes and her horse. Apparently, I'd also bought her a horse when I'd enrolled her there. As I washed all the medicine and dead lice out of her hair she continued to assure me of how well she was taking care of _Zvezda_. As I combed through her wet hair, looking for any carcasses she started to gush about _Zvezda_, the white diamond on her forehead, her mellow temperament, how quickly they'd understood each other. I encouraged it, partly because it wasn't about Shopkins, but it also seemed to lift her spirits a little.

With her head, seemingly, in the clear, I pulled it all up into a tight, wet, bun on the top of her head and gave her shoulders a squeeze.

"I'll check you again tonight just to make sure, but I think you're all set now."

She stood, turned, and hugged me as hard as she could. "I'm so glad you're here, Avery."

My reply choked off in my throat as I fought off the welling of tears. She didn't notice. She skipped off down the hall toward her room as I cleared my throat and washed my hands. I started cleaning up all the mess we'd made when a second set of familiar hands joined me in the cleaning and I sniffled a little as I passed over my trash to Stellan. He quietly accepted it, and then silently started wiping down the counter. I didn't know if I could handle two moody Korolov's in one night so I started with something light,

"What does _Zvezda_ mean?"

"Star." He quietly replied.

"She named her horse Star? I wonder why." I stopped and leaned against the counter as I contemplated it.

"She has a horse?" Stellan gave me a confused look and then pulled the chair up against the wall so he could sit opposite me. I pushed up onto the counter and smirked,

"I think I've now officially spent more money on her than you."

"You already had me beat," he said to his hands, twisting his ring around his finger.

"Only because I had to buy her affection back when I dared to speak ill of Shopkins," I teased, trying again to keep this light. He glanced up at me, through his lashes, and my heart ached in my chest - he looked miserable.

"I am a failure as a parent."

"What?" I blurted in response.

"You've done more for her in the last six months than I've done for her in the last six years." He replied, squeezing his fists a couple times and then looking toward the bathtub.

"Don't," I slid off the counter, "it's not the same thing. You sacrificed everything to keep her alive. I bribed St. Lucia's with my blood money."

He looked up at me, frowning, and I closed the space between us, my hands combing through his hair, as he slid his arms around my waist.

"It just comes so naturally to you," he sighed and rested his head against my stomach. I ran my nails along his scalp and then down toward his neck.

"Don't take this the wrong way," I smiled to myself, "but it's because I'm boringly normal. Also, I'm a girl, I know how she feels."

He let out a few soft laughs against my shirt as I continued to pet him. As he sunk into me I relished the weight, grateful to be the one comforting this time after feeling like spun glass for so long. I slipped my hands under the collar of his shirt, fingernails lightly scratching against the sunburst and he let out a happy little groan. After more than a month, things were finally starting to feel normal again, or at least the version of normal I'd come to appreciate. Until Luc passed by, fighting with someone on his phone in French. We both turned to watch him go and Stellan shook his head a few times.

"That's not good," he quietly said and stood, grabbing my hand as we followed Luc out to the living room. Jack and Elodie were already on one of the loveseats, quietly talking with each other as Luc barked a few final words of French and practically spiked his phone at the couch.

"Everything okay Luc?" I tentatively asked, eyeing Jack and Elodie who were also on high alert.

"I'm sorry," he evenly replied, his back to us, as he picked up his phone and shoved it back into his trousers. "I have to go back to France."

"Oh," I replied, trying to curb my disappointment. He turned to examine the stitching on the bottom of his jacket like it was the most interesting thing in the world and then quickly added,

"I have to pick my new Keeper."

Stellan stiffened next to me and then we all seemed to exhale at the same time. I had no idea what to say. The silence drug out for what felt like minutes. From the corner of my eye, I could see Jack and Elodie darting their eyes back and forth between Stellan and Luc trying to gauge what to do as well. Finally, I couldn't take the pressure of it anymore and stuttered,

"I...is there some kind of...ceremony or something? Should we go to it?"

"No," he immediately barked back, glaring at his hands, and I stiffened and shut up. Stellan let go of me and moved across the carpet, draping an arm over his tense shoulders and gave a forced smirk before commanding,

"Just make sure he's not Russian."

"I'm sorry," Luc immediately replied, turning to look up into his face. Stellan frowned back,

"Me too."

The room dipped into silence again and I tightened my arms around my chest, stumped as to what to do next.

"Well," Elodie drawled, "since this seems to be the day of bad news - things did not go well with the Order today."

"Wonderful," I grumbled and flopped onto the armchair closest to me. Luc and Stellan sat down on the other couch and Elodie opened her phone and started to read off,

"They think they've found a clue for one of the more catastrophic mandates, and the predictive and presymptomatic testing is yielding some...interesting results, among other things."

"Is the world ending tomorrow or do I have time to see New Zealand before I die? Again." I sighed. Everyone's eyes darted to me, surprised at my callousness and I shrugged in response. "Death and mandates. That's my life now."

"_Kuklachka_," Stellan grumbled.

"I really thought we'd be doing a lot more fun things. Spoils of war and all that," I continued. "Haven't any of you ever taken a vacation?"

"Keepers don't take vacations," Luc quipped. "Other than the day they get off for their birthday."

"It's not in our nature to relax," Jack expanded and I shook my head at all of them, disappointed. But then an idea flickered through my thoughts like a fire starter and immediately roared to life across my brain. I was awash with resolve. I'd never been more sure about anything in my life.

"We're taking a vacation."

"We can't, we have the…" Stellan started to say and I held my hand up and cut over him with,

"Anya can't go back to school for two weeks and you put Jack on my detail. He can't be in two places at once and we can't combine any of our meetings. So, let's just cancel them all and go to…" I trailed off as the endless possibilities started to burn through my mind.

"It doesn't work like that," Stellan sighed.

"Mexico!" I nodded as if that settled it. "And yes we can. Are we the 13th Family or not? We can do whatever the fuck we want."

"She has a point," Luc smirked. "Why Mexico? Why not something exotic like Cambodia?"

"Latin America isn't controlled by any Circle Family," Jack mused.

"See," I pointed at him, "we'll be left all alone. No suck-ups."

"But it's dangerous," Stellan countered.

"So we bring extra security. It's not like we'll be wandering around the streets aimlessly." I waved him off.

"Colette stays at this one resort that has private villas. It's where all the celebrities go to escape the paparazzi." Luc added, unlocking his phone and immediately texting. I smiled broadly at him, feeling the tide turn in my direction. Especiallywhen Elodie shot him a knowing look and said,

"It would really help all my efforts if the two of you didn't look so miserable all the time. Come back fat, tanned and happy and then I won't have to harass you to smile more."

"See," I pointed at her. Luc looked up from his phone and announced,

"Cuixmala."

"That's where we're all going," I nodded and smiled wide at the group.

"Not me _cherie_," Luc frowned. I pouted in return.

"I'm not allowed back in Mexico," Elodie shot in and all the attention of the room swung from me to her. She shrugged, "do I really need to say why?"

"I kinda want to know now," I answered, Luc, nodding as well.

She let out a dramatic sigh and then smirked to herself and answered, "I tried to smuggle a baby sea turtle in my luggage back to France."

I started laughing immediately and she smiled at me as Jack gave her an incredulous look and asked, "when was this?"

"They're endangered. We were able to drop the charges as long as I didn't go back." She shrugged again and settled back in her seat, Jack still waiting for his answer.

"Why am I not surprised you're on some wanted list?" I chuckled.

"Sea turtles aside," Stellan interjected and I turned to Elodie and mouthed 'buzzkill'. She laughed and then snorted, her cheeks going pink with embarrassment as everyone stared at her again. I stood and spread my hands out horizontally,

"Stellan, I love you. But shut up. We're going to Mexico." I commanded. He glowered at me as Luc laughed. I clapped three times like that settled it and made my way to the hallway, throwing over my shoulder, "I want to be the one that tells Anya."


	22. Chapter 21

"The ocean!" Anya screamed, tossing her sparkly pink backpack at the ground and sprinting down the long set of stone stairs to the beach.

"Wait!" We all called after her, but she was already taking two steps at a time, running right past the giant checkered tile pool and jumped the final few stairs right onto the sand.

"Vacation, right," Jack grumbled under his breath and then took off after her, yelling, "don't go in the water Anya!"

Stellan and I followed him down and then leaned against the retaining wall watching Jack quickly close the space between them as she cartwheeled across the pristine sand toward the churning Pacific Ocean laid out before us. The morning breeze rustled through all the palms above us and the lush foliage behind us, cool and heavy with the smell of saltwater and sage. The sun was just starting to warm up, making the jackets we'd worn from London feel extra heavy. Further out a flock of birds startled at the edge of where the ocean met the land taking off into the cloudless blue sky as Anya let out a squeal of delight when her now bare feet touched the water. I chuckled as we watched Jack try and hunt down her shoes on the empty beach while she jumped in the surf. It was absolutely surreal.

As Jack coerced Anya back I turned around to get a good look at our villa for the next two weeks. My eyes poured over all the beautiful curves to each of the round buildings and the bright white wide open windows, I bumped my hip against his thigh and said to Stellan,

"I swear I didn't know it was orange."

He turned to look with me at the three tiers of the villa moving up the mountainside in their persimmon shade and leaned over to knock his shoulder into my own as he replied,

"Should have kept that to yourself. I was starting to believe you were the one with magic in your blood."

"Nah," I smiled at him, "dumb luck."

"Avery!" Anya yelled toward me, trotting past the long outdoor couch filled with pillows in ocean toned blues. She took in a huge breath before continuing, "I have never even been to a lake before and now I have touched the biggest ocean in the world!"

"Congratulations," I laughed and looked behind her at Jack, panting, his hands crossed over the top of his head, her purple sneakers hanging from his hands. He narrowed his eyes at her back before coming to stand next to her.

"How do you not have jet lag?" He gave her an exasperated look and then tossed her shoes at the ground next to her backpack. She spun around, hands on her hips and puffed up a little as she cracked back,

"Why aren't you more excited? We are at the beach!"

"Because we just spent almost an entire day on a plane. Ask me again tomorrow when everything doesn't hurt." He crossed his arms, giving her a very stern look that she completely ignored. With a quick spin on her bare feet, she started up the massive staircase toward their suite at the top calling back over her shoulder,

"I'm going to change so I can swim!"

Jack scowled at the stairs and then glanced at Stellan with the most pathetically beseeching look and Stellan nodded and then yelled out in a scolding tone,

"Slow down! You can't swim at this beach, the current is too strong."

She halted on her climb, frozen for a moment, before turning to face the three of us and yelling back down,

"But I can swim in the pool!" A huge smile lit across her face and she started sprinting up the rest of the steps.

"I tried," Stellan laughed.

"You brought a bathing suit, right?" I teased.

"I hate you both," Jack sighed and reached down to grab Anya's things before starting up the stairs after her.

As they disappeared I shrugged out of my coat and took a closer look at the grounds. Jack and Anya's suite was in the same building at the top of the property, sharing a wall but with separate bathrooms. About ten steps down the stone carved outdoor staircase was the two-story master suite, equipped with our own private balcony above the living quarters on the bottom floor. Ten more steps down were the family room, dining room, entertainment room, and kitchen. Which led to the final ten steps down to the pool area filled with dark blue and white loungers, bright white umbrellas and an outside pool house with a thatched looking roof I'd been told were called a palapa. It was set on four circular tiers, a table with six chairs on the first, smaller two-seater tables on the second, wrap around couches on the third, and the final tier was directly into the checkered pool.

When Gemma had assisted me with booking this trip they'd informed us that the only private villa they had available was the Casa La Playa - for $8,000 a night. I had initially balked at the price, but Gemma had nodded appreciatively and said that would be perfect. We could land our own plane on their private airstrip, the resort had 24-hour security on their protected, secluded land, and we would have a dedicated housekeeper, chef, and butler on the 20,000 square feet the compound was situated on.

That was just our villa. The resort had a laundry list of activities, restaurants, and experiences for our butler to arrange at a whim. Like the breakfast, they were already setting up under the palapa next to the pool. Even with all the added security of the resort itself, we'd still brought two Order security guards with us. They would be taking shifts and staying in the staff apartment separate from ours and mostly just watching from a distance.

While I hadn't been part of the entire handoff meeting I had made it perfectly clear to the three of them, that if I was going to be spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on this it needed to be an actual vacation. No glad-handing. No photo ops. No paparazzi. No earpieces shadowing me. I'd waited in the silence of my mandate for a good minute or two before Elodie begrudgingly sighed and nodded, Jack and Stellan following her lead. Knowing that was taken care of I'd let them hash out all the logistics while I planned the two weeks ahead with the manager of the property. Despite everything going so smoothly, this wasn't exactly what I thought a Mexican vacation was going to be like.

My mother and I had been planning Mexico as our 'someday' for as long as I could remember. We even had a private Pinterest board I hadn't had the guts to look at since I'd left. On our road trips to the next state, we would strategize for when she wouldn't have to travel all the time for her job anymore. We'd go to Mexico and stay for a while. Sip drinks under blue umbrellas, find a sliver of beach and tan ourselves brown, learn how to surf and speak Spanish. She said we'd stay at a casita and ride our bikes around town, eat street tacos and learn to salsa. It was one of my favorite topics we shared. But never in our plans had it involved the grandeur of a private beach set within an animal preserve.

Now that I'd seen how excited Anya had gotten just at the ocean alone some of the things I planned seemed borderline obscene and hollow. They certainly weren't Coke in glass bottles and street vendor shopping. I forgot sometimes that she was the closest to me in terms of normal life experiences. I didn't have to set up all these elaborate things to make her happy. But I hoped Anya and Stellan would enjoy them all the same. It wasn't every day you were able to watch baby sea turtles hatch and flop out toward the ocean.

"_Kuklachka_?" Stellan's voice broke through and I shook from my thoughts and smiled blankly back at him.

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking about?" He wondered, his eyes flicking up and down my body quickly, "I just had an entire conversation with myself."

"Sorry. Must be the jet lag." I gave him another big forced smile. "What were you saying?"

He took a step closer to me and lowered his voice, "are you feeling alright?"

I pressed my lips together and started nodding, trying not to lash out at him. He'd started asking me that since Jerusalem. Always low enough so no one else could hear, and always right after he'd catch me in a daze, which had been increasingly more and more. I knew it was in his nature to watch me, and I'd been giving him plenty of reasons to be concerned. But I really didn't need a reminder of all that before I'd even had breakfast on the first day of our vacation.

"I'm hungry," I lied and tossed my jacket at one of the white and dark blue loungers as I walked along the edge of the pool on my way to the palapa. I gave him another big, fake, smile over my shoulder. He frowned in return.

* * *

"_Si! Si! Bueno!_" Chef Mateo encouraged Anya as she smashed up more avocados in her bowl. After two days of swimming and building sand castles, I needed to break this up a little. What could be better to learn how to make than guacamole? I wasn't sure how expensive avocados might be back in London, but the look of sheer determination on Anya's face was brightening my mood.

I probably should have anticipated it, but I'd apparently brought two Keepers with me. I'd been passing out in our California King sized bed alone, waking up alone, and had been entertaining Anya by myself. I'd managed to catch Jack yesterday afternoon to ask what the hell was so dangerous about a private beach, on secured land, with two trained assassins lurking in the shadows to protect us? He'd replied,

"Everything, Avery. The overgrowth of the vegetation can hide a lot, the size and shape of the cliffs are concerning, we're staying in three separate buildings, and even if this part is safe - it's still Mexico."

I'd nodded and started strategizing from there. The guacamole was the first step in my plan.

Elodie's constant reprimand for Stellan the day after an event was that he had to stop looking like a Keeper in all the pictures. He was only allowed, according to her, to be snarky and mischievous or brooding and pensive. He'd always just roll his eyes at her, but I could tell it did bother him a little. If it was because he didn't think it was a problem, or he didn't know how to fix it I wasn't so sure. If having dinner at five-star restaurants was enough to bring out Keeper mode I was going to have to up my game if I wanted him to shake it for this trip.

I glanced over at what Anya and I had jokingly started to refer to as 'his spot'. It was under the palapa, on the second level, at a two-seater table and chair set up that had the perfect vantage of the pool, ocean, and stairs going up to the suites. He had one of the metal chairs tipped back against a pole and his boots propped up in the other as he scowled at the property in his black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. He was ridiculous. Even Jack had shorts on and was sipping a Dos Equis.

Anya was just finishing up her avocado mashing when I called over to him,

"Come join us. Spaghetti can't be the only thing you know how to cook."

His eyes narrowed as he forced himself not to immediately turn me down and exhaled loudly as he stood and made his way over. Anya switched her attention to chopping up cilantro with her kid safe knife. As she concentrated on her task he had a quick conversation in Spanish to get the lay of the land and then started halving his own avocados. With the task nearly complete Chef Mateo left, all of us smiling and waving as he ambled back toward the kitchen.

Anya sprinkled her poorly cut cilantro onto her lumpy avocados as she cheerfully said,

"Stellan knows how to cook lots of things!"

"Oh do you?" I drawled at the side of his face. He refused to look over at me and instead smirked as he finished mashing up all his avocados into a smooth paste. "Like what?"

"Borscht, Blini's, Pelmeni, Pirozhki," Anya trailed off.

I let out an incredulous huff they both ignored, too absorbed in their cooking to care. I really should have known. In retrospect, he'd helped me with that vegetable soup at Colette's villa like a pro. I pulled a bowl of tortilla chips closer to myself and settled back in my chair to watch them work. Anya was carefully dropping one pre-diced tomato into her mixture at a time, which had given Stellan plenty of opportunity to catch up to her. As he finished cutting up limes for them he finally looked over and shrugged,

"They're all Russian."

"Why is that an excuse?" I replied with a smirk before crunching down on another chip.

"Most of them involve cabbage," he clarified and Anya laughed so loudly in response the two of us couldn't help but start chuckling as well. Anya grabbed one of the limes and attempted to squeeze but only a few drops came out. Picking up another half he leaned over the table and said,

"Tell me when."

Anya kept her eyes on the steady stream of lime juice pooling in her guacamole, but mine were on his forearm as he forced every last drop out of the lime. I crunched down on another chip and blinked away so I wouldn't get caught ogling. With a few final stirs, they pushed their finished bowls across the table toward me.

"Okay Avery," Anya started very seriously, "you have to be honest and tell us which one is better."

I gave her a serious nod back and grabbed my first chip, holding it in front of them as if it was of the utmost importance. I dipped into Stellan's first which, of course, was professional grade guacamole. I gave him a curt nod, trying not to react at all because I could practically feel Anya's anxiety about potentially losing this impromptu competition. I turned to Anya's next, her little hands folded on top of the table, fingers pressing down hard onto the tops of her hands. I grabbed the next chip and took a bite. I had to press my tongue immediately to the roof of my mouth so I wouldn't pucker at the sheer amount of lime juice that assaulted me. But when I crunched down on a rather large and spicy jalapeno I had to close my eyes and start vigorously nodding to hide my reaction.

"Anya wins," I coughed and forced my watery eyes open to see her jump up from her chair with a triumphant shout and then point at Stellan and start laughing. He darted a hand across the table to try and grab her gloating finger but she slipped away just in time and let out a shriek as she ran down the platforms away from him and did a cannonball into the pool.

I wiped at my eyes and then jerked as Jack gave me a friendly, but firm, clap on the shoulder,

"Way to take one for the team, Avery," he laughed and passed his beer to me. I took a slug of it and then almost gagged.

"Christ, it's so bitter."

I grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into my mouth to try and calm my tastebuds. They smirked at each other and settled back in their chairs, sharing Stellan's guacamole as their eyes immediately did a sweep of the property. My disappointment mixed with my indigestion - that lasted all of five minutes. I pushed Anya's abomination toward them and grabbed Stellan's for my own, scooping out a big bite as I said,

"Someone has to eat it. And I blame your forearms for this."

"Me?" He cracked back, but his eyes were playful. My mouth full, I just shrugged in reply. Keeping full eye contact he scooped a big glob of her guacamole out and took a bite. I waited, feeling the smile build across my face until he couldn't hold it back any longer and swallowed hard so he could start coughing. Jack slid his beer across the table and he drained it, and then wiped at his face.

"She left all the seeds," he inhaled, waving a hand at his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Jack and I started cracking up, and then Jack stood and went to the mini fridge in the corner, bringing back two beers for them.

"Look!" Anya yelled from the shallow end, pointing out toward the ocean. We all snapped to attention, the laughter gone, and then relaxed as she continued with, "dolphins!"

She swam up to the step and urged us to follow her for a better look. Stellan took a drink and nodded, I followed him out from under the shade into the hot afternoon sun. I might be giving Stellan a hard time about not shaking Keeper mode, but if I was being honest I wasn't much better. I still hadn't put on a bathing suit despite two days of watching water activities. I'd tried that first day and took one look at my giant scar and scrawny looking body and threw my clothes back on.

We stood at the edge of the deep end of the pool to get a better look at the school of dolphins bobbing in the water and breaching the waves.

"Swim with me!" She smiled up at us and then splashed a little water toward our feet. It cascaded onto my flip flops and the toes of Stellan's boots. He frowned at her and she gave him a sheepish smile before teasing us with, "unless you don't know how to."

"He knows how to swim," I replied, shaking the water off my feet at the same time he said,

"I can swim."

We shared a knowing smile between us and I leaned into him, resting my head against his arm. He took a sip of beer as his warm palm slid up my back, fingers snaking up to gently tug at the bottom of my hair and said,

"It's Avery that can't swim."

"Are you really," I started, indignant, realizing far too late I'd fallen for his bait to distract me.

In one smooth move, he took a step back while simultaneously pushing me forward toward the pool. I let out a yelp and twisted awkwardly to grab onto him, only ending up with his shirt in my hands, precariously off balance. It pulled taught against him, he winked at me, and then with a duck and a twist, stepped backward right out of his shirt, somehow still managing to hold his beer. My fists futilely clenched the fabric harder as I fell, in slow motion, backward into the pool. I hit with a stinging slap into the water and sunk to the bottom, clothes, shoes, phone and all.

I pushed against the tiles and resurfaced, sputtering and coughing, slopping his T-shirt onto the side of the pool with ringing laughter from the three of them bouncing around me as I shook the water out of my ears. Stellan was still making his way back over to his spot as I drug myself up onto the edge of the pool, Anya swimming over in between fits of laughter. I glared at his back, the giant sword moving as he took another deep drink of his beer. My scowl deepened as I realized my glare had turned to ogling again. But it was mesmerizing to watch. I had to find a way to keep his shirt off on this trip.

Anya floated up next to me as I yanked my phone out of my wet jean shorts and sighed watching the steady stream of water pouring out from the inside of my phone. It wouldn't even turn on now. Metal scraped against concrete and we both turned to see Stellan settle back into his spot, a shit-eating grin across his face now.

"I don't think he knows how to have fun." Anya pushed up onto her back, shaking her head at the sky in disappointment.

"No," I paused watching the way his arms flexed as he adjusted his foot chair. "He doesn't know how to relax."

"How can you make someone relax?" Anya asked slowly floating away from me. Immediately, all sorts of devious thoughts began to alter all the plans I'd made. It was going to be a much better strategy.

"I have an idea," I smiled and pushed to standing, my clothes dripping with every step up to our room.

* * *

"Are you sure I can't come too?" Anya drawled.

I watched her from the mirror in the bathroom, her head hanging off the edge of our bed, her hair nearly touching the ground, as she played with one of my necklaces.

"Pretty sure Anya," I laughed.

"Jack is already in a bad mood. It's not going to be any fun."

I turned away so she couldn't see my smirk. I knew exactly why Jack was in a bad mood, Stellan had told him this morning he was on babysitting duty tonight. They'd been glaring at each other all day about it. I hadn't said a damn word, too afraid that if I tried to keep the peace I would jeopardize this chance for the two of us to be alone.

"And we're just getting a quick dinner and coming back. That's not much fun either," I countered, shutting the lights off in the bathroom. She sat up with a jingle, moving to the center of the bed. I told her she could pick my jewelry for tonight, but it would appear she was wearing it instead. All my bracelets were hanging around her elbows, the necklaces tangling around her neck, her right hand filled with rings. She just needed a crown, though I doubted I'd ever had thousands of dollars of 'play' jewelry hanging off me when I'd played _Pretty, Pretty Princess_ by myself.

"Everything is more fun with you," she pouted, but I wasn't biting tonight. The four of us had gone on a hike and spent the majority of the day at the swimming beach. She had thought Jack was plenty of fun when he was tossing her into the waves all day.

"Jack can be fun," I tried to pacify and then leaned toward her, grabbing her hand so I could slip off the ruby cocktail ring I wanted. She gave me the biggest boo-boo lip ever and I laughed as I slipped the ring onto my right hand. "Do you like my dress?"

I gave her a slow spin as she critically looked over my outfit. I'd opted for an off-the-shoulder linen eyelet dress with three-quarter sleeves. It was pure white, delicate looking and possibly too short. But, it made my building tan look amazing, and had the added sway to make my attempts at salsa dancing look more legit.

"I like your lipstick," Anya nodded.

"I'm not wearing any," I smiled.

"I like your dress."

We both turned to see Stellan leaning against the door jamb, eyeing me, his rolled sleeves crossed tight over his chest in his bright white Oxford, and I instantly flushed. Anya, on the other hand, lept off the bed, all my jewelry clanging with the action and took some bouncing steps toward him,

"Do you have to leave me with Jack?"

"Yes," he automatically answered, his eyes still glued to my legs.

"Oh, come on," Anya grumbled and pushed past him to make her way down the stairs, jingling with every step.

"Ready?" He held out his hand toward me and I nodded.

* * *

Plaster was falling off the front of the building, there were paper flyers in the windows showcasing the 'steep' discounts they were giving on premium liquor, the front door was wide open and you could smell the food even from the street. It was perfect. The sleepy little town just outside the property line of Cuixmala had already been inspected earlier in the day by the Order guard that was currently parking our car on a side street. The gravel crunched under our feet as we walked past the public garden, the Catholic Church, and dark houses. Only the church seemed to be alive, with light shining through the stained glass windows for an evening mass. We stopped in front of our destination for the night, _El Pecado_, and Stellan let out a little laugh in his chest.

"What?" I squeezed his hand.

"You can't translate that?" He nodded his head at the sign. I searched through all my limited Spanish and shrugged. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "sin."

A shiver rolled down my spine and the smile bloomed across my face as our Order guard caught up with us and held the door open.

The restaurant looked like it could fit, maybe, 50 people in it. It was a long rectangle with white plastic tables and chairs to the right, kitchen access on the left, the bar tucked into the back corner, and a steel screen letting in the lush breeze from the back patio. We cautiously stopped at the door, unsure if we were supposed to seat ourselves. The place was mostly empty, just two older gentleman slowly slipping beers as they watched some kind of game show on the muted TV mounted to the wall. Music was playing faintly from a speaker I couldn't locate. The walls had peeling posters from previous fight nights and soccer matches as the decor. I squeezed Stellan's hand again in excitement and he shook his head, grinning.

The bartender looked up from his phone and then jerked in surprise at the sight of us. Abandoning the bar, he gave us a big greeting in Spanish and came forward to shake both our hands for some strange reason. He introduced himself as the owner, Antonio, and gestured toward the table closest to the bar. He even beat Stellan to the punch in pulling out the chair for me and I instantly liked him. With everyone seated our Order guard stationed himself in a dark corner and this rush of hope filled my chest. This could actually work. Maybe there wouldn't be enough people to make it feel like the kind of jovial atmosphere I'd always see in pictures, but everything else would be pretty close to mimicking a 'normal' night out.

"_¿Qué quieres comer señorita?_" Antonio directed at me first.

"_Señora_," I corrected and his eyes widened and he shook his head.

"_¡Eres demasiado joven!_" He chastised me and I slid my hand across the table to wrap a finger around Stellan's and smiled,

"_El es muy guapo._"

Stellan and Antonio both let out a loud laugh and he squeezed my finger between his own before releasing me. We settled back in our chairs and I decided to start simple, ordering tacos and some Coke, but then Stellan tacked on a round of tequila at the end. I rose an eyebrow at his smirk and tried to keep up with their banter back and forth over the best possible tequila they had.

As Antonio made his way into the kitchen to deliver our order Stellan leaned toward me,

"Are you having fun?"

"Of course," I smiled.

"Of course isn't good enough."

"Whenever my Mom and I talked about going to Mexico there was always salsa dancing involved," I replied and shrugged. There wasn't a dance floor here or the right crowd for it when you considered the only other patrons.

Stellan let out a contemplative noise, scanning the room as Antonio set down a basket of chips and a little bowl of salsa. As he popped the tops off our Coke's with a bottle opener he had in his pocket I took my first bite of salsa and nodded approvingly. He then hustled toward the bar and ducked below it to come back with a bottle of tequila so clear I'd almost thought it was water.

"No mixers?" I asked as he pulled the seal off the bottle and pulled the cork out. I didn't even know tequila came in anything but a twist off top. Stellan frowned at me,

"You don't bastardize a tequila this good with triple sec."

"Sorry," I rolled my eyes and scooped up another bite of salsa.

Antonio set down two shot glasses, ready to pour when Stellan shook his head, gesturing toward the guys and their empty beer bottles. I was pretty sure he'd just invited everyone to take a shot on him. Antonio jogged over to the bar, returning with three more shot glasses to confirm my suspicion.

After greetings and the scraping of their plastic chairs across the concrete floor toward our table, we all clinked our shot glasses and my throat caught fire. I started coughing, frantically grabbing for my coke as everyone laughed and Antonio gave me a few pats on the back to attempt to help me. It was still burning all the way down to my belly and I glanced across the table at Stellan's shining eyes and gave him a skeptical look.

Antonio started lining up another round of shots and my eyes went wide right as the restaurant filled with the sound of church bells. They rang over the sound of the music drowning out everything and Antonio grumbled something and stood, moving back to the bar to turn the music up. It mixed with the last of the bells and someone started singing, loudly, with the song in the kitchen. They continued to sing as they swung out toward our table holding a serving platter filled with delicious looking food.

The cook set down tacos, ceviche, guacamole, a plate of cut up limes and a salt shaker. I was very confused about the last two items and thanked him as I grabbed a taco for myself. My eyes rolled closed as I stopped myself from shoving the whole thing in my mouth and moaning, it was incredible. I opened my eyes to grab another one as Stellan invited everyone to the food and another shot. Antonio ambled toward the bar grabbing a stack of shot glasses and setting them down on the table this time. The cook pulled up a seat to my left and then licked the place between his thumb and pointer finger and doused it with salt, grabbing a lime with the other hand.

He looked up to see my confused face and encouraged me to do it as well. I darted my eyes to Stellan and he was grinning and nodding. I followed suit, as did the rest of the table, and then Antonio pushed another shot into my hand.

"_Mira, mira_," he encouraged me and then licked the salt off his hand, threw back the shot, and shoved the lime into his mouth, sucking on it until his cheeks pulled in. "_Ahora lo haces._"

I shook my head and everyone laughed and encouraging me to try, even Stellan.

"We've resorted to peer pressure?" I grumbled, Stellan let out another laugh and then I followed the steps the cook had shown me, taking the shot. The group let out raucous applause and cheering for me, everyone taking their shots as well, slamming their glass down onto the white plastic table.

Antonio looked past me at the group of people hanging out by the entrance, telling them to come in as I grabbed another taco and tried to calm the burning in my chest with food. I was pretty sure Stellan had just offered all the newcomers a shot as well, but the tequila was starting to make everything a little wonky. People began to fill all the empty tables and, confirming my suspicions, Antonio grabbed the bottle of tequila and the stack of shot glasses and started moving to every table offering people a shot. It was all quite suspicious to me, especially considering the perma-smile across Stellan's face.

"What exactly are you doing?" I asked, downing the last of my coke and grabbing the guacamole for myself. The two older guys shouted hello to some new people, excusing themselves from our table as the cook took off into the kitchen.

"You want Salsa dancing. People dance when they're drunk." He explained sliding the ceviche toward himself and taking a bite that had a huge piece of shrimp on it.

"So your plan is to get the whole town drunk?" I laughed.

He shrugged, a mischievous grin pulling across his face and the booze swelled in my bloodstream with my shock.

* * *

CRASH! A beer bottle broke against the wall followed immediately by two guys pushing each other and shouting in Spanish. I laughed, loudly, leaning my chin onto Stellan's shoulder from where I'd perched myself on top of the bar and pointing at the chaos it was creating. They slammed into one of the plastic white tables, shattering two of its legs off and rolling onto the ground, making dancers trip over them as they continued to try and land punches.

"We'll pay for that Antonio!" I yelled over toward him and he waved me off with a toothy grin.

"_Jefe_," Antonio shouted over the music as he leaned toward Stellan, "_¿qué quieres hacer?_"

"_Está bien_." Stellan waved him off, nodding appreciatively at one of fighter's technique, "_sólo hazlos ir._"

Antonio moved out from behind the bar, gesturing wildly at the fight and yelling at some of the guys just watching and laughing. With some reluctance, a group of four managed to separate them and throw them both out. The crowd never stopped dancing, this one-two-one-two beat that made them all somehow move in tandem, yet individually at the same time. It was mesmerizing to watch. Also, I was shit housed. I had lost track of how many shots we'd done. I wasn't even sure how many bottles of tequila Stellan had bought at this point. I had never been this drunk, I felt like I was floating above my body somehow, giddy and grabby, believing all the lies the tequila was whispering to me. _You're fine. Drink more. You can dance._

With the distraction gone the floor was instantly filled with dancers, more trying to push in from the growing line outside. The only place that wasn't inundated with patrons was our little circle of protection at the bar. Antonio had rustled up two standing lamps and circled a couple pieces of duct tape between them to create a makeshift stanchion, our own VIP room. It was even complete with our own Order security guard standing watching just inside the line.

Antonio maneuvered over the duct tape line and made quick work of opening yet another bottle of tequila. He wasn't even bothering with shot glasses anymore. As the crowd continued to push into any sliver of space, well past the capacity limit, he'd just started shoving through the sweaty masses and pouring the clear fire water straight into waiting mouths. The song ended and I watched as he sloshed the bottle back toward Stellan and shouted out in the quiet moment before the next song,

"_El Jefe!_"

The restaurant shouted it again in appreciation, a few people adding this rolling call like a coyote after it. Stellan rose his beer in salute back to them. The next song blasted over the hum of the crowd and everyone let out a shout of appreciation. I started bobbing back and forth on the bar, too drunk to feel my hands and feet and too happy to care if I looked stupid. Antonio crossed back under the duct tape line looking harassed for a moment before grinning at me and seeming to chastise Stellan in Spanish as he repeatedly pointed to me bobbing back and forth and then the dance floor, undulating with people that seemed to actually know the steps.

I forced myself to focus and try and figure out what they were doing when I was lifted off the bar and planted on my unsteady feet. I let out a shriek followed by laughter and looked up at a grinning Stellan.

"Dance with me."

"I don't know how," I shouted back over the music, feeling a flush of intoxication flood my body. Everything was spinning.

"Anyone can marenge," he grabbed my hands, threading our fingers, pulling me toward him and moving our hands side to side between us as our feet shuffled along. "See, you're already doing it."

"Really?" I looked down, skeptical of how quickly I could have picked this up.

"Just trust me."

And I did. He started slow, making sure I was picking up the simple act of moving my feet back and forth in time to the music, and then I was twisting, spinning, dipping and letting out peels of laughter as we fumbled through it. Each spin was bringing me closer and closer to him. Each gentle correction was moving further south down my body. My shoulders to my ribs to my waist. Until his hands were on my hips, his fingers curling into my ass as he urged me to grind myself against his thigh.

All the bubbly fun started to pop in my chest to be replaced with a slow burn of need. He flipped me in his hands so my ass was in his lap, keeping me right where I could feel his hard-on with his strong fingers wrapped around my hips. He moved one hand up to swipe all my sticky hair away from my neck and shoulder and started kissing it and I shuddered against him. It made him groan into my neck, I couldn't hear the sound, but I could feel the vibration and I wanted more.

I started to really push into him, rotating my hips in time with the music and snaking my arms behind myself to grab onto his shirt and pull him closer to me. His hand twirled in my hair, pulling it taught around his fist and a spike of lust broke through all my inebriation. He curled around me again to run his lips up to my shoulder onto my neck and then bit down right on that spot on the back of my neck that makes my knees buckle. I melted against him and then let go, turning in his hands to give him the same look I could see on his face. I was done with all the foreplay. He nodded and then yelled to our Order guard,

"Give me your keys and follow us to the car."

The Order guard blanched, but only for a moment, and then dug into his pocket and passed them over. Stellan wrapped his hand around my wrist and drug me past the safety of our lamp stanchions toward the open screen door at the back of the restaurant. I tried to keep up with him, focusing on my feet and not the people clapping and shouting at us as we pushed through the crowd. Once outside the breeze hit us and we both sighed with relief, it felt electric against my feverish skin. We moved past couples practically fucking against the side of the building and out onto the sidewalk and the crowds loitering outside the restaurant. The Order guard pointed to his left and we crossed the dirt street toward our car, illuminated in yellow and purple light coming through the stained glass windows on the church.

I pulled taught against Stellan's hand, expecting to get in on the other side of the car so we could leave but he shook his head, unlocked the car, and opened the back driver's side door commanding,

"Get in the back."

"Here?" I gawked at him, looking at the crowd still in view down the street and our Order guard scanning our surroundings. He nodded, opened the driver side door and turned the car on, cranking up the air conditioning and then slamming the door, gestured toward the back again.

"Give us a minute," he told the Order guard and slid in. I quickly ducked into the car, the Order guard slammed the door behind me and I sat on the edge of the seat, unsure what to do now. We were going to have an audience of at least one. How could he not think that was scandalous? Or was Stellan into that? I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure if I was either. I supposed a part of me was, I'd fucked him on our living room couch after all. There was this building energy inside me about the prospect of someone hearing us, seeing the car moving, it made my whole body buzz with anticipation.

Stellan pulled some latch and the whole back seat laid down to almost form a bed and then he reached for me, pulling me into a kiss. I crawled across the seats to get closer to him finally reaching his lap and straddling him. He pulled at the zipper on my back and I broke off the kiss to whisper,

"You sure?"

"Are you nervous little doll?" He rumbled against my neck, getting more of the zipper down.

"What if," I started to think about all the ways this could go spectacularly wrong but the words choked off into a moan as he grazed his teeth on my neck.

"We can stop," he said, but his fingers managed to get the rest of the zipper down. His palms slid up my back and onto my shoulders, urging the dress off and I felt him swell against me through his shorts, hot and hard, and the lust flooded me. I felt achy I wanted him so bad, and the windows were tinted, and we had a guard watching our car. The tequila started whispering to me again, telling me to make everything else fade away, focus on him. I gave in to the urge, too horny and drunk to let rational thought win this round.

I grabbed his shirt in my fists, pulling at it, not even bothering to unbutton. The first button flew off in my violent tug and he flipped us in response. My back slid against the cold leather and he pushed me up until my head was almost in the trunk as he shoved my dress up around my hips and ducked his head between my legs. His five o'clock shadow drug against my thighs on his way north, while his fingers tugged at my thong. He yanked the tiny scrap of fabric off me, his mouth making instant contact and my back arched off the now sticky leather as I let out a loud groan. Fingers slid right in and he pulled back enough to chastise,

"You tease. Already soaking wet for me."

He curled his fingers and I was too overwhelmed to say anything in response. Instead, I started rolling my hips against his fingers, failing miserably at keeping these tiny sounds of need from escaping, my climax already fluttering low in my pelvis. He felt it because he stopped and pulled his fingers out.

"Not yet," he said and I could hear the grin in his voice.

I growled in frustration, propping myself up on my elbows to glare at him. His eyes met mine, dark and possessive and I shimmied back down toward him, my hands going right for his zipper, palming him as I slipped it down. I ran my hands up to grab his shirt, yanking it to my left until he started to roll onto his back. I really wanted it off of him, I wanted to feel everything, but that would just take too much effort. I knew he thought I just wanted to be on top, which was why he'd complied so fast, but I wanted to blow him. I very rarely did it because we always jumped right to the sex.

I slid off the edge of the seat until my knees hit the floor and then dug my nails into his thighs and raked them up toward his hips. He let out this charged breath, watching me with wide, surprised, eyes as I tugged his pants open and pulled him out. I smirked, impressed at how hard he was and looked up at him through my lashes before leaning forward and taking him until he hit the back of my throat.

"Holy fuck," he groaned, his hands fluttering around my shoulders and then my hair, not actually touching me though I knew he was dying to. I wrapped a hand around the rest of him, making it follow my lips up and down each time. One shaky hand started to pet the side of my head, fingers threading through my hair and I smacked his hand away, knowing he'd love it. He sucked in a breath of surprise and swelled in my mouth at the same time.

"I'm gonna," he pleaded, "oh god don't stop."

His hand slid up my shoulder again, attempting to wrap around my hair and I smacked it away, hard enough to make a sound this time. I pushed him back down onto the seat with a flat palm, then dug my nails in as hard as I could.

"Fuck, fuck," he groaned. "No, stop. You have to stop, I'm gonna come."

He detached my clawed fingers and then put both hands on my shoulders, pushing me away with a giant breath. I looked up at him from the floor of the car, running the back of my hand across my mouth as I took him in. He was heaving and wild looking, buttons missing on his shirt and this thin sheen of sweat across his body despite the air conditioning keeping the car bearable.

"We're even now," I teased, breathy and throbbing. He just laughed in response and guided me back up onto the seat until I was straddling him, backward, a knee on the outside of each of his thighs. I rested my elbows on the tops of both of the front seats, my body lengthening and stretching as he smoothed his hands down my waist, anchoring them on my hips, and then angled me just right to sink all the way down on his dick.

"That's so fucking good," he groaned against my shoulder blades. I nodded, panting and so close to the edge of oblivion I didn't know what was going to come first me or my blackout.

His fingers dug into my hips making them angle backward and my ass pop up. When he brought me up and down it hit that magical spot inside me that made my whole body contract. He helped me bounce up and down his dick, his fingers biting into my skin to the point of bruising to keep me in that specific position. Legs shaking, heart pounding, the world started to darken around the edges, this strangled noise broke from my throat as my whole body started to tighten in anticipation of my release.

"You're so fucking tight. Beg for it." He ordered and ran his nose up my sweaty spine. I shivered in response and it catapulted me even closer to the edge. I had lost control of my body - breathe, fuck, breathe.

"Please, please, please," tumbled from my mouth in this high pitched tone I'd never used before.

"Louder," he groaned, swelling inside me.

"So close, so close," I pleaded, dripping sweat, my whole body shaking now. I felt his tongue slide up my spine, licking a bead of sweat off me and I shuddered. Then he released his hand and smacked my ass so hard I clenched in reaction and imploded.

I struggled to hold onto consciousness as I contracted and fell against the center console, my elbows hitting hard and my sweaty forehead sliding against my hands. This whining growl was shaking my teeth as it rattled past, so loud I couldn't even hear Stellan anymore as wave after wave of orgasm crippled me to the edge of muscle cramps.

Everything darkened, swirled, spun and I sucked in a huge breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. We both stilled, only for a moment, panting until I felt his gentle kisses sliding all along my lower back,

"I love you," a kiss, "I love you, Avery."

"I know," I croaked and he started quietly chuckling against my skin, the little puffs of breath mixing with the air conditioning caused my rapidly cooling body to shiver. I reflexively clenched and it was too much for both of us. We sucked in painful breaths and he pulled me off of him, guiding me to his right so we could both collapse onto the laid out back seat.

"Are you okay?" He gently brushed some hair off my sweaty forehead and then kissed it. Murmuring, "I got kinda carried away."

"We'll find out tomorrow," I whispered back, feeling that sucking, spinning pull into unconsciousness wash over me.

"Why?"

"I have to pass out." I exhaled and attempted to pull my dress back up only to feebly fail and sigh, "I love you too."

I slumped against him and let the blackout take me.

* * *

I woke up with a confusing bracelet of my panties wrapped haphazardly around my wrist and the worst case of dry mouth I'd ever had in my life. The room was blindingly bright, despite the closed curtains. The air heavy with humidity and this awful mix of sweat and tequila that made a gag try to rise in my throat. I wanted to go back to sleep, but I had to drink water or I was going to die. It was that dire.

Stellan was still passed out, face down, fully clothed, wearing only one shoe, on top of the covers. I wondered if he'd been the one that managed to get my dress back on last night or if it was the Order guard. Because I was almost positive he'd blacked out too. He'd been taking every single shot last night whenever the crowd started chanting _El Jefe_.

I tried to roll toward my water bottle and let out a pathetic sounding whine. Muscles I didn't even know I had hurt, and that motion had rattled my brain just enough to create this halo of pain around my head. I was pretty sure I was going to die. And if I didn't I was never drinking tequila again.

With tremendous effort, I managed to sit up and the room spun around me. My clumsy hand smashed things out of my way toward the water. The bottle made this awful crinkling sound as I fisted it to ensure I didn't drop it on the ground. I flinched, Stellan let out a groan next to me. I struggled with the cap and then chugged the whole bottle as fast as I could. Water spilled down the sides of my mouth toward the stiff and now itchy feeling collar of my dress. My already tender stomach tried to heave the water back up, but I clenched my jaw and pressed my lips together as hard as I could.

I headed for the bathroom and Anya's shrill laughter from the pool pierced through my eardrums and I cringed, the action making my head throb more. I stayed there, long after I was finished, my head in my hands, as I tried to piece myself back together. When I finally managed to work up enough momentum the first thing I did was peel my soiled dress off of me, then crawl across the marble floors until I made it to our giant sunken tub, and made the water as hot as possible.

When I managed to finally slide in I sunk to the bottom, relishing the sting of the heat washing away all our mischief from last night. I could hear some kind of noise back out in the bedroom, but I had no intention of leaving this bath until I absolutely had to. As I floated in the water I could make out Anya's shrieks and laughter toward Jack. Why the two of them felt yelling at each other was necessary was beyond me. I sunk under the water again and when I emerged I could hear groaning from the bedroom. It would appear Stellan was waking from his coma.

The world started to solidify more around me. Now I only felt like I might be incapacitated instead of dead. In some miracle of forethought last night my drunken brain had remembered to take my contacts out. But now everything was blurry, including which white blur was a towel or a robe. I grabbed both of them, wrapping my hair up first and then squinting at my reflection in the mirror. Something was off. Letting the robe drag behind me I got close enough to see and gasped. Bruises. So many bruises. I slowly spin in the mirror to see them sprinkled across my hips, ass, neck, wrists. What the hell had we done last night? I remembered it being pretty wild, but not this rough.

I pulled the terry cloth robe on, tying the sash tight and pulling the collar up to hide my neck. How the hell was I going to hide all this from Jack and Anya today? Or would it be possible to just burrow into some kind of sensory deprivation room until I was back to normal? Stellan groaned again and I stumbled back toward the bedroom, holding my breath until I could open all the windows.

It would appear the noise I heard was some brave staff member setting down some food for us, and by the looks of the spread, it was lunch. We'd slept in that long? Everything was so disorienting. I sat down with a thud onto the couch by the food and immediately sucked in a painful gasp, the initial shock turning to a dull throb between my legs. So I guess it had been that rough. As the pain ebbed I looked at the spread of food trying to figure out which item wouldn't make me immediately barf.

One looked like chicken soup with giant pieces of corn in it. The other was some red drink with a lime on the side maybe it was juice? Along with deep fried tacos, fruit, puffy bread and chips and salsa. I opted for the juice. I watched the giant mass of Stellan starting to stir on the bed as I took the first big gulp of juice and it sprayed out of my mouth all over the food. Not juice.

It was salty and spicy and fizzy and bitter. What the hell was this thing? I pushed it away, staining my robe as I wiped my arm across my face.

"Avery," his muffled voice called out and I forced down a spoonful of the broth from the soup instead and quietly answered back,

"Stellan?"

"I blame you for this," he groaned again and I snorted my disbelief.

"Sure you do _El Jefe_," I laughed, then groaned and grabbed my head.

There was a beat as we both huffed and quietly whined to ourselves until I asked,

"You want to take back what happened last night?"

He yanked the pillow off his face and squinted at me,

"Never."

I nodded, forcing myself to take another sip of broth when he pulled the pillow back over his face and croaked, "you?"

"Could do without all the bruises," I answered, leaning back on the couch and grimacing at every pain spot that was screaming at me.

The pillow lifted off his face as he glared at the window and then shortly asked, "what bruises?"

"Clearly you drank way more than me if you don't remember." I laughed and then grabbed my head.

"Don't talk about drinking," he groaned as he rolled to sit at the edge of the bed, head in his hands, his hair a mess all over his head. There were three quick knocks and Anya's loud, chipper tone through the door,

"Are you two awake yet?"

Stellan and I both flinched at the sound and I fell over onto my side, curling into a ball on the couch as she banged on the door again. Stellan groaned loudly and then started breathing hard. That couldn't be good, but there was nothing I could do. I wasn't moving from this spot until the world was done punishing me.

"Fine! I'll come back later," she grumbled to the door and then yelled down the hall, "they're still asleep!"

I was pretty sure I heard Jack start laughing and then Stellan gagged and rushed toward the bathroom. I pulled a pillow over my head.


	23. Chapter 22

"Can you make sure that Richard took care of Antonio. I think I saw him settling our tab last night," Stellan stopped mid-sentence and let out this sound from his throat like he'd swallowed down a dry heave.

I didn't move at all, I didn't even open my eyes behind my sunglasses. Once the two of us had managed to make it down to the pool we'd collapsed onto loungers and passed back out, waking up intermittently whenever Anya got too loud or another wave of nausea punished us. I felt so awful I only made a meager attempt of covering up the bruises on my neck and wrists with a sheer top, and only for Anya's sake. Stellan's already haggard face had gone a shade paler when he saw what he'd inadvertently done to me. I hadn't had the heart to tell him those were only the ones you could easily see.

"Of course," Jack answered. It was followed by the sound of the lounge chairs being pushed across the tile toward me. Again, I didn't dare move because then Jack would start asking _me_ questions and I did not have that in me today.

"Oh," Stellan croaked, "we'll have to get that car detailed because...it's basically a crime scene now."

"You two threw up in it?" Jack harshly asked, sounding very much like a beleaguered soldier.

"Ummm…" Stellan stalled and it took all of my concentration not to start laughing. "Sure, let's go with that."

"For Christ sakes," Jack hissed at him, but Stellan just laughed in response. Then I felt his head land in my lap and figured it was safe to pretend to wake up now. My fingers threaded through his hair and I looked to my right to see that he'd pushed all four loungers together to make himself a horizontal bed. He snuggled into my thigh, sighing relief.

"I talked to Elodie this morning," Jack continued and I frowned at him. "Everything is in place for the…"

Stellan turned around just enough to scowl and cut over him with, "stop. I can't. I'm too hungover. We can do this later."

"Later?" Jack's eyes bugged a little.

I appreciated Stellan giving us the break. Elodie has next day aired me a replacement phone, already reset with all my accounts. But once I'd seen the growing number of text messages I was behind on this morning I'd turned it off. It seemed like Stellan was finally getting the hang of this vacation thing too. And dealing with Circle bullshit would without a doubt test the limits of my gag reflex today.

"We should talk about this now," he pressed, trying to get Stellan's full attention. I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"Not happening," Stellan grumbled and turned back toward my hip, pressing a couple kisses to it before relaxing, I immediately started petting him in thanks. Jack scowled at us and then turned on his heel and left.

* * *

"I'm sorry," I yelled toward the dining room as I hurried down the final few steps. I could already hear the glasses and silverware clinking as I turned the corner and paused. I'd overslept. It didn't exactly help my grand plan to keep this trip in vacation mode, but it did help me get over the last of my hangover. I tried to corral my rapidly curling hair into a ponytail as I took in the room. We hadn't had a meal in here yet, opting to do everything at the pool so Anya could keep swimming. There were beautiful birds of paradise displays beside a few of the open windows, the bright orange making the views of the ocean seem that much deeper blue. Covering the majority of the circular table was a delicious looking breakfast, complete with huevos rancheros and exotic looking fruit. I crossed the green and white checkered floor to take the empty seat next to Stellan.

He was already done eating, just sipping coffee as he flipped through his phone. Jack was still picking at some bacon as he frowned at his phone and Anya was attempting to finish a pancake that was the size of a dinner plate, her eyes glued to some obnoxious YouTube video. No one looked up at me and my frustration grew. I let them out of my sight for a few hours and they all reverted back to Riberton settings. Maybe I should toss everyone's phones into the pool. Instead, I forced myself to settle and leaned across the table to grab the mango juice loudly clearing my throat. At least Anya to looked up at me.

"Any plans for today?" I brightly asked her.

"Swimming," she shrugged and took another bite. Jack and Stellan were nodding, their eyes still glued to their phones and I swallowed my outburst. Of course, more swimming would appease them - they'd secured that days ago. I grabbed a piece of toast and smirked to myself. They had no idea the wrench I was about to throw into their well-oiled Keeper machine.

"Actually, Anya," I casually started and relished the way they two boys flinched at my tone. "I had something else planned for today."

"You do?" She pushed her plate and phone away, her wide blue eyes matching the ocean displayed behind her.

I nodded as I took a bite, "this is an animal preserve after all. I thought it might be fun to take a tour of the grounds. On horseback."

Anya gasped, her hands flying to her cheeks as she tried to collect herself. Jack and Stellan, on the other hand, both locked their phones and turned very annoyed eyes onto me. I took another bite.

"We're all going riding together?" Anya asked, each word getting louder in her excitement. I could practically feel Jack and Stellan's tension at the next words about to come out of my mouth.

"Oh, not Stellan and I," I gave her a little frown. "Mosquito threat is too high for my compromised immune system and someone has to babysit me."

"I see," she deflated a little, no doubt thinking she'd be doing this on her own. But I'd planned for that as well.

"But," I loudly continued and took a sip of juice as I paused, watching Jack scrunch his face into frustration because he knew what was coming next. "Did you know that Jack is excellent at horseback riding?"

"Jack!" Anya yelled, spinning toward him and crossing her arms in a pout.

"Yep. He plays for the royal polo team." I added, smirking into my juice.

"Why didn't you tell me this?" Anya scolded him and he gave her a single pointer finger, which stopped her cold as he locked incredibly harassed eyes onto me.

"Is this a good idea?"

"Best idea," I nodded. "I set it up so you're the only two on the tour, you'll have an Order guard trailing in a Jeep, and they set up extra security along the marsh just in case. Miguel should be here in about," I reached over and pushed the home button on Stellan's phone to reveal the time, "five minutes."

"I have to get changed!" Anya exclaimed jumping up from the table, breakfast abandoned and made a beeline for the door.

"_Kuklachka_," Stellan started but I shook my head, grabbing a second piece of toast as I spoke over him,

"You should get changed too. Don't want to keep Miguel waiting."

"This is a horrible idea," Jack tossed his napkin at the table in agitation.

"It's going to be wonderful. You'll be thanking me at dinner when you two get back." I smirked, taking another bite.

"Dinner?" They said at the same time.

"There's a break for lunch in the middle of it. I arranged a picnic for you two."

"Absolutely not. I haven't vetted any of this. It's too high a risk." Jack stood, his chair scraping against the tiles and I felt the anger boil in my chest. The dangerous kind, the PCS kind that was hard for me to control.

I had expected some push back for this little stunt, but he was going to need to get used to it because I had all kinds of other things planned for this week. I would not just sit idly by the pool as we slowly died of boredom because Jack and Stellan didn't know how to loosen up. I had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but from the angry flush to his cheeks and the way his chest seemed to be getting larger with each inhalation I threw out my trump card.

"You'll do it," I darkly warned him, "or I'll make it an order."

"Avery," Stellan whispered next to me, but Jack and I were locked into a staring contest that I was not about to lose. After what felt like five minutes of glaring he blinked, clenched his jaw, and with a curt nod turned and left.

I went back to my breakfast, serving myself some eggs and fruit as well as a cup of coffee as Stellan continued to sit in stunned silence next to me. Taking a deep breath between each bite was calming my rage, but I was still on edge. I could feel his eyes on me and finally looked over, surprised to find him smiling.

"What?" I snapped.

"Nothing," he pacified, throwing both his palms up toward me, "that was just incredibly hot."

"Really?" I narrowed my eyes in suspicion at him. He nodded, several times, his eyes raking over my bushy hair and the flush from my rage slowly ebbing from my cheeks.

"I take it you have plans for me as well?" He smirked and took a sip of coffee.

"Big plans," I smiled to myself as an ocean breeze fluttered the sheer curtains at the windows.

"You really don't want to go riding with them?"

This question was serious, and I took it into consideration for a moment. I worked through a bite of eggs as I weighed the pros and cons, finally deciding to stick with the plan.

"Oh," I paused as I took a bite of cantaloupe, "I'll be riding something."

He did a spit take into his coffee as I took another bite and relished every second of making Stellan blush.

* * *

When we'd come up for air at lunchtime Chef Mateo had offered me a beer to go with the shrimp tacos he was preparing tableside for us. But remembering how bitter Jack's beer had been I'd declined. He and Stellan had some kind of humorous exchange before the chef snapped his fingers in inspiration and returned with a blended strawberry margarita for me. I had initially been very wary to attempt tequila again, a mear 24 hours after almost dying from my hangover. But you could barely taste it with all the mixers, and it slowly unraveled all the residual tension I'd been holding onto since my morning spat with Jack. So, I had two with lunch and requested a third after our massages on our private balcony.

"I've never seen them up close before," Anya whispered.

"They're kinda beautiful don't you think?" I whispered back. Anya nodded and I leaned back in my lounger so I could grab my drink. She moved closer to Stellan's back to get a better look at the intimidating display he hid 90% of the time.

I hadn't been lying when I told him I had big plans for him today. It wasn't only sex I was after, though that had been a majority of the plan. I knew he was fully capable of showing his true colors if he could just relax. And since he'd revealed to me that his scars no longer hurt him when he was calm the very first thought I'd had was a massage. It had been a hard sell. He'd absolutely refused to let his masseuse touch anywhere below his belt line. But once she'd managed to unravel a knot on his shoulder he'd given me a smile so gorgeous I had to look away. Once I'd battled all my butterflies back down I looked over to find he'd passed out on the table.

"I didn't even know he had tattoos until I saw him change at Colette's house. What do they mean?" She quirked her head to the side in thought and before I could formulate an answer continued with, "his scars are worse than mine. He never showed me the ones on his shoulders before."

I nodded, not trusting my drunk mouth to keep Stellan's secrets to myself. If he hadn't told her about his giant back tattoos or the severity of his scars yet, there was probably a very good reason. I chased down the straw on my blended margarita and took another deep gulp.

"Do you have a tattoo?" Anya broke up the rhythmic swell of the ocean with her quiet question. "It seems like everyone does."

"What do you think?" I stalled, taking a final sip and putting down my now empty glass.

Anya thought about it for a long time, looking between Stellan and I and then shook her head, "it was supposed to happen on your birthday, but that was the day after I came from Russia."

I was stunned. I pressed my lips together so I wouldn't blurt out anything in my inebriation, but honestly, I was more worried than impressed. She knew way more about the Circle than I thought, and it gave me a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. Anya moved over to sit on the end of my lounger and continued,

"The older girls at my school talk about it a lot. Where they'll get their tattoo on their birthday. One of them asked me what our family's tattoo looked like once."

The anger flared in my chest and I crossed my arms trying to stem it. What the hell was going on at that school? Why would she be anywhere near 16-year-olds? I was a moment away from calling the headmistress and giving her an earful when Anya laughed and said,

"I didn't know what to say so I just started saying nonsense in Russian."

We both shared a little laugh and from the corner of my vision, I caught Stellan's eyes flutter open, watching the two of us. I leaned forward and slipped my finger under the chain hiding just beneath her collar until my locket popped out and laid across the sparkly heart design on her shirt.

"We took your last name for our family," I started, running my fingers down the chain to the locket. That exact movement filled me with such an acute sense of nostalgia that I released the chain like it was hot. "This is our symbol."

"Would you get one now?" She grabbed the locket and pressed it into her fist, releasing it to show me the design it made in her palm. I traced the outside of the imprint in her hand and then took a deep breath, pooling all my swirling emotions back into check.

"No," I firmly answered, snatching my finger away. She looked up, her eyes startled and I added, "the Circle forced people to get tattoos to show ownership. We're not the Circle."

Her eyes immediately darted to Stellan's back, realization filling her face, and then her whole neck flushed red as she noticed he'd been watching us.

"_Eto pravda?_" She quickly asked. He nodded and sat up, patting the now empty space next to him. The questions started pouring from her in quick Russian I couldn't keep up with and his eyes narrowed as I watched him mentally keep track of every single one.

Watching the two of them - their blond hair shifting in the ocean breeze, their skin taking on a slightly reddish hue under all the building tan, so different and yet almost mirrors of each other - I felt like an outsider. I didn't want to slow this down, I didn't want to intrude on something so intense and obviously needed between them by making them switch to English, or barely following along in Russian. I stood and tried to quickly make my way back into the room.

"Avery," they both called out after me and I turned and gave them a big, fake, smile.

"It's okay, I have to go to the bathroom anyway," I lied. Anya smiled in return, but Stellan's eyes were suspicious. It didn't matter, Anya leaned forward to tap his shoulder and ask him more questions. He broke our eye contact and I made my escape, through our room and down the staircase to the first-floor living room. Only to almost trip over Jack as he sprawled across one of the armchairs, rubbing at the giant compass on his forearm. So I'd managed to upset everyone in one felled swoop this afternoon - lovely.

"I could have sworn the bathroom was only on the second floor," Jack groaned, kicking his shoes off and making himself comfortable.

"There's actually two on the first floor, though I'm not sure why." I cautiously affirmed and stepped over his dusty looking jeans to sit across from him on the bright white couch filled with blue and orange pillows. Once I was nestled in snugly between a mountain of them I finally met his eyes.

"Did you have any more tasks today you're willing to kill me for if I don't obey?" He rose a sharp eyebrow at me and I couldn't stop the flush of embarrassment.

"You know I had to," I grumbled.

"But you didn't," he sassed back, shaking his head in agitation, a plume of dirt and pollen rose up out of his hair. Where the hell had they taken them today? A dirt farm?

"Please," I rolled my eyes. "Neither of us were going to back down as normal people. I had to pull rank on you. I'm basically just burning piles of cash on this trip, and I need at least two days of Stellan acting normal for it to be worth anything."

"Stellan doesn't have a normal setting. He's either intimidatingly Russian or infuriatingly French." Jack snapped and I couldn't stop the bubble of laughter that rolled through me.

"Am I annoyingly American?" I joked.

"No," he narrowed his eyes at me. "You're a hypocrite."

"Jack," I sighed, shifting deeper into my pillow fort. The room was starting to spin around me from all the tequila.

"Don't tell Anya you're not Circle and then turn around and order me to go horseback riding or die." He steamed, shifting on the chair as another layer of dust shook off his shirt and onto all the white furniture.

"I was never going to kill you," I argued. "Do you think I'm insane?"

"That's what it means, Avery. Certain words have weight in the Circle and that's one of them." He stood, harassed, and I threw a pillow at him to stop him from leaving. He caught it before it smacked into his face and turned angry eyes onto me.

"You forced my hand!" I rose my voice and sat up, pillows spilling all over the floor. "If you just wanted to watch Anya swim in a pool we could have stayed at Riberton. I know this is a foreign concept for you two, but families go on vacations all the time so they can enjoy each other's company."

"What family?" He countered, hurling the pillow toward the mess of them on the floor.

I kicked a few back in retaliation and fumed, "no offense Jack, but Stellan, Anya and I are. I am legally a Korolov. I want them to be happy. And I know that's fucking weird for everyone else involved with all your warped Circle bullshit. But I have absolutely no problem throwing you under the bus to achieve that."

I started sucking in deep breaths, attempting to calm myself as Jack blinked hard a few times, seemingly paralyzed by my rant. It was so quiet in the wake of my outburst we both looked at the ceiling simultaneously knowing Stellan and Anya had probably heard every single word of that. We both slumped with weariness, our eyes meeting again and I shook my head in disappointment. Why couldn't Jack and I ever have a normal conversation? It always ended up in screaming.

"Okay," he nodded.

"Okay, what?" I snapped back.

"You're right," he answered, crossing his arms over his chest, a look of grim determination contorting his face. "You're not just the 13th Family, and I need to respect that space."

"Thank you," I tersely replied and we stared warily at each other for another beat. I was waiting for the but. I'm sure he was waiting for me to do something unpredictable and emotionally charged in retaliation as well. But then another beat passed, and we heard the Russian start up again above us and Jack cautiously sat back down in his filthy armchair and gave me a little nod as he asked,

"What else have you planned for this trip? Can you please just give me the itinerary so we don't have to resort to threats every morning?"

"Only if you promise you aren't about to make some kind of objection to every activity I've already paid for," I replied with a big, patronizing, smile.

"Lay it on me." He frowned and then rubbed at his face, smearing a blotch of dirt across his forehead.

"Did you at least have fun today?" I countered first. Maybe if I could get him to admit my plan hadn't been all bad he'd be more open to everything I was about to reveal to him.

"I actually did," he replied with a twinkling sort of smile that lit up his face. "Anya is a very good rider. And the grounds are unbelievable."

"Okay good!" I clapped and leaned down to retrieve all the pillows that had spilled to the floor. "Because tomorrow we're going deep sea fishing on a yacht."

"We're what?" He immediately asked but I continued barreling onward,

"Then the day after is surfing lessons at the swimming beach and I've arranged for a full mariachi to serenade us during our bonfire dinner," I answered. "Oh, and I can't forget the sea turtles."

"Sea turtles?" He blanched.

"And the fireworks." I nodded, trying to dig through my drunk thoughts to remember everything I'd arranged.

"You paid," Jack paused for emphasis, "for a fireworks display?"

"Shhh," I hissed at him, looking up at the ceiling, "it's a surprise for Anya."

"Avery," he grumbled looking down at his filthy hands.

"You're going to love it!" I emphasized by throwing another pillow at him. This time it smacked him on the side of the head, bouncing off to land somewhere on the floor behind him.

He glowered at me, "just how drunk are you?"

"Very," I tried to answer seriously, but a bubble of laughter snuck its way out. "Is there something you wanted to do while we're here?"

He shook his head, collapsing back into his chair, letting his feet slide along the plush rug as he relaxed and contemplated my question again. I forced myself to hold still, wanting to give him space to really consider all his options, though my drunkenness was urging me to keep talking.

"I want a day off," he finally answered.

"Granted," I immediately replied. "Just tell me the day."

"Clearly not tomorrow, or the next day, or the fireworks day." He grinned at me.

"I did schedule some free days next week," I gave him a genuine smile. "Pick one of those."

"Good plan." He nodded.

I stood, all the jewel-toned pillows falling to the ground again and started my teetering stumble back upstairs when Jack held up a hand. I stood in front of him, marveling again at just how dusty he looked when he said,

"All I ever need is to be looped into what you're thinking. I'm your ally, not your enemy."

I nodded, it was something he shouldn't have had to remind me of, but I was glad that he did. I patted his strong shoulder as I continued walking past, both of us laughing at the pollen that lifted off into the air.

"What will you do on your day off?" I wondered, pausing at the base of the staircase as I looked back at him.

"Sleep," he grumbled, and before I'd even made it up the flight of stairs I heard him snoring.

* * *

"I still think you should have flown out," I yelled toward my phone as I crawled along the floor of our bedroom looking for my lost flip flop.

"I wish. But I had to handle some things back at the villa before the next location on this project." Colette sighed.

I laid flat on the ground and pulled the comforter up so I could look under the bed, yanking out the missing white and blue flip flop and jumping back up to my feet. It made the room spin from the tequila left in my system from lunch. I sat on the bed with a thump and grabbed my phone, switching to FaceTime instead of a call.

"Look at you!" Colette cooed as I blew some hair out of my eyes. "You're so tan!"

"You should see Stellan!" I laughed.

"Show me," she urged and I stood up and walked to the window to see if they were still down at the pool. We were leaving for our excursion soon but I wasn't about to ignore a call from Colette. The pool looked empty and I shrugged,

"Sorry. Don't see them. But I have pictures!"

As Colette encouraged me I tried to figure out the way to share my screen with her. I'd seen Elodie do it a couple times before. My face disappeared and instead, the first picture from our group photo album popped up.

Even though I'd eventually received my new phone, I'd continued to abandon responsibility so I could ensure we all stayed in vacation mode. I was the only one that knew how to do it after all. So instead of answering emails, all I'd really been doing was taking pictures. Lots of pictures.

"Look at her!" Colette gushed. I smiled in response. The first one was of Anya mid-jump on our giant white bed, blue pillows floating in the air with her and a huge smile on her face.

We both let out little sighs at the next one. Anya, again, this time sleeping on one of the dark blue loungers, with a white umbrella keeping her in the shade.

"She is such a precious little thing. We are so lucky to have her," Colette said, a smile lighting up her face on the screen. I flicked through a series of photos I'd taken of the grounds, the rooms, the views of the ocean and so many sunsets.

"They really don't do it justice," I added as I flipped to the sunset picture I'd taken yesterday.

"I haven't stayed at Casa La Playa. I am so jealous." Colette gave me a little pout and I yelled out,

"Stay with us!"

She laughed and then we both stopped as the next flick revealed a short video instead. It was of Anya, holding something in her hand, and then throwing it up in the air as Stellan leaned across the table to catch it in his mouth. He gave the camera a grin to show a grape between his teeth as we all started cheering and clapping.

I flicked to the next one and started laughing, explaining through my giggling, "I told them 'say boy band!'"

Colette cracked up, this belly laugh that made me laugh even harder as I looked at it again. It was from our fishing day, on the yacht, the deep blue water sparking behind Stellan and Jack as they gave me dirty looks from the bow of the ship. But I hadn't been able to stop myself. They had their Oxford shirts open, and Bermuda shorts on, with their hair whipping wildly in the wind - it could have been on some lovesick girl's bedroom wall.

Our laughter calmed down as I flicked through some more from that day, Anya frowning at her empty hook, Jack reeling in a giant fish, Stellan sleeping on a padded lounge chair.

"Just how many things did you arrange?" Colette wondered as I flicked through the next set. These were of Anya on our couple days at the swimming beach. Of her building a giant sand castle with Stellan, doing cartwheels on the wet sand, a rogue wave slamming into her back as she let out a surprised yelp.

"God, too many things. Jack was so mad at me." I chuckled to myself.

"He always seems harassed but he loves it. He and Oliver were always going here and there, getting into trouble." Colette lamented and then stifled a yawn. "They basically lived in Monte Carlo for half a year."

"That's the kind of stuff I need to know so I can blackmail him!" I scolded her. She nodded,

"Remind me when I get back and I'll tell you about the time they came to Vail with Liam and me."

"Deal," I smiled and flicked through the final few from yesterday. Stellan giving me a skeptical look as he attempted to milk a cow, Jack holding a baby chick in one hand and Anya's determined face as she cupped her hands to be next, Anya putting a giant hibiscus flower behind Stellan's ear as he smiled at her, Anya's outstretched hands as she walked through a field of lavender. Then there was my favorite thing I'd managed to capture so far on this trip. It was a short video of Anya holding onto Jack's finger as she did pirouettes down a row in the nursery, exotic looking orchids and gardenias on either side of them, pollen catching the sunlight in the air.

"Oh Avery," Colette sighed and I looked at her face in the tiny box on the corner of the screen as her eyes poured over the video again.

"Right?" I whispered back.

"It's so magical," she continued. "I don't think I've ever seen Stellan smile so much. And I've known him for years."

"Must be the tequila," I joked.

"It's not the tequila," she chastised me. "But where are you in all these?"

"Keepers don't take photos," I grumbled. She laughed in response. "I've had to really pick some battles here."

"Surely they've taken at least one picture of you?" She asked, astonished, and I was about to say no when I noticed there were more pictures in our shared folder. I had Stellan set it up so everyone could have them on their phones as soon as someone added them to the folder, even Elodie stuck in France. But there were at least six more than there was yesterday.

"Hold on," I distractedly answered and flicked to the first one. It wasn't framed exactly right, a bit overblown from the high afternoon sun, but it was of Jack walking along the edge of the pool, dipping a toe in as he talked on his phone, a huge smile on his face.

But it was the next one that made me quietly gasp with realization, "Anya."

It was Stellan in one of the giant armchairs in the living room with myself sprawled across his lap, laughing, as he said something into my ear. Then a blurry one of Stellan and I on our surfboards at the end of our lesson, waving toward the shore from the ocean. And another, this one just of me with a giant smile across my face, a drink in my hand, the sunset behind me and the entire mariachi band circling me as they serenaded us during dinner.

"What a little sneak!" Colette laughed.

I'd been taking hundreds of pictures, only sharing the best ones to the album with the knowledge that there probably wouldn't be a single one of myself. But there I was wrapped up in a yellow and blue blanket with Stellan holding me to his chest, the sun setting behind us. And then leaning across the table to plant a kiss on his cheek as he grinned. On the verge of laughing at something out of frame in my tiny black bikini as Stellan was rubbing in sunscreen on my back already laughing.

It was the first time I realized that despite having my picture taken constantly I didn't have any pictures of us. There had never been physical evidence of our real relationship, the one we protected from all the paparazzi, the one that was still building and forming as we fell deeper in love. The rest of the world knew what our Circle marriage looked like, or my Saxon heiress antics entailed. But these pictures proved that it had become more than that. It was something I'd always wanted - evidence of a life being lived.

Colette grew quite as well, sensing my change in mood even without being able to see me. I flipped to the last picture and stopped breathing, my eyes burning with the threat of tears. It was of the two of us sitting on the dark beach, stars filling the sky above, a dwindling bonfire in front of us causing us to appear as shadows, with my head resting against his shoulder.

"_C'est la perfection_," Colette's voice wrapped around me as I tried to work through my shock. Because there was no way Anya could have taken this one. She's fallen asleep and we'd stayed on the beach as Jack carried her back.

"Jack took this one," I quietly said and then had to wipe at my face from the rush of tears that had suddenly rolled down my cheek.

"Jackie did?" Colette's shock shook me from my daze and I took a deep, shaky, breath as I composed myself.

"He did," I replied, just as shocked. Colette said something in French I couldn't quite catch and then followed up with,

"You deserve this, Avery. Enjoy the moment."

"Thank you," I sheepishly replied, and took one last look at the picture before switching back to the FaceTime. My eyes were a little red but otherwise, I looked fine. Colette yawned again and I looked at the clock, "what time is it there?"

"Bedtime," she smiled. "I'll be back in town after Christmas."

"Talk to you soon!" I smiled back and she gave me a little wave and hung up.

I immediately flipped back to the pictures, pouring over every detail until I heard my name and poked my head out a window to see the group waiting for me at the pool.

"We're going to miss it!" Anya yelled up and I tucked my phone into my back pocket and shoved on my other flip flop, hurrying down the stairs. Tonight was sea turtles night.

* * *

Cuixmala had been running their turtle release program for almost thirty years now. It was one of the highlights of a trip to their resort. Tonight marked the last batch of baby turtles they were going to release to the ocean for the season. And if I hadn't been burning so much money at this place we would have had to share this moment with other people that wanted the opportunity. But the resort had caved when I'd pushed for us to be alone for it. It seemed like a very snobby, rich person, thing to do at the time, but watching Anya crawl across the sand, encouraging them in Russian as Stellan squeezed my hand made me know I'd flexed my power the right way for once.

We still hadn't been allowed to touch them, of course, but had given Anya the honor of tipping the five-gallon bucket slowly against the sand. Their tiny little bodies could not have been bigger than a quarter as they slipped and slid all over each other to find a small patch of sand to start their journey toward the ocean. The staff had even urged Anya to chase off a couple birds that were waiting at the edge of the water. Her bright laughter when she'd accomplished it made everyone smile at each other.

There were about fifty in all, and as the last twenty or so slipped into the surf Anya yanked out her phone and made a call. I turned to Stellan, his hair whipping in the wind and grinned,

"Two guesses who that is."

"Oh! She answered!" Anya hollered and then hopped along the beach back to us, squishing in between until we could all be seen on the screen together. Elodie's puffy looking face and bloodshot eyes blinked a couple times in confusion, before frowning.

"This better be good," she grumbled. Stellan and I laughed and then Anya hit the button flipping her camera out to reveal the last peek of the sun slipping under the water and the twelve baby sea turtles slowly flopping their way out to the ocean. Their tiny black bodies were speckled with the light grained sand and Elodie let out the girliest sounding sigh I'd ever heard her make. It must have been the sleep deprivation.

"We thought you might like to see it." Anya tried to zoom in on a few of them making it to the edge of the water.

"It's wonderful. Worth waking up for," she yawned, rubbing at her face and then smiled at the camera as she watched a couple more slip into the surf and disappear. Anya flipped the camera back.

"I wish you could have been here," Anya huffed and then pulled her bright white hooded jacket closer around her shoulders. In the fading light of the sun it made her tan look even darker, and her hair almost platinum blonde.

Elodie frowned, "me too."

"You've been getting the pictures, right?" Anya turned and started walking back up the path to the Jeep and our waiting Order security guards. We followed suit, our excursion over now.

We followed close enough to keep an eye on Anya on our trek back, her speakerphone conversation with Elodie mostly just noise against the roar of the ocean behind us. It really had been the end to a perfect day. I was surprised when Stellan threaded his fingers with my own and squeezed - nope, now it was perfect. I looked up and gave him a lazy smile, the sun and booze and slow pace all day had lulled me into a level of relaxation I hadn't felt in a very long time. It made me feel sleepy and I wished I would have been smart enough to remember a jacket like I'd told Anya to. The evening was cooling rapidly and it was going to be an open-air Jeep ride back to the villa. I scooted closer to my own personal heater instead, releasing his hand, so I could tuck against his side. It slowed our steps down, but when he squeezed me closer I knew he was enjoying it too.

"Today is his day off." Anya quibbed back to Elodie. We both chuckled at the sound Elodie made, though we couldn't catch the words. Anya answered, "Avery did. If you were here I bet you'd have one too. It is a vacation after all."

Anya started skipping up the dirt path and I shook my head in disbelief,

"Boundless energy. No wonder Jack's exhausted."

Stellan laughed and I could feel it reverberate against my side, he leaned over and kissed the top of my head,

"Tell me something, wifey."

"Summer, pizza, invisibility," I answered, a grin filling my face as he jerked us to a stop in the road, confused.

"Did you just have a stroke?" He looked down at me, concerned until I started giggling as the realization dawned on his face. Just to be sure I clarified,

"Summer over winter, pizza over pasta and you always choose invisibility over flying."

He pressed his lips together, contemplating my answer, and then shook his head.

"Becoming invisible is incredibly easy. Being able to fly on a whim...that would be a useful skill."

"What?" I laughed back, "not assassin invisible. I'm talking see…"

The rest of my sentence was lost when he ducked down and pressed a kiss against my lips. I was still laughing a little as I kissed him back, thinking he'd done it to shut me up, but then his fingers were in my hair, and my arms were around his neck and when his tongue brushed against my own I pressed my hips into him as I pulled him closer. Quickly everything faded away to just breaths, kisses, the swell of the ocean, his warm hands, my cold nose, and the smell of earth and salt. From behind my closed eyes, a bright light illuminated ahead of us and we broke apart to see sunset had been replaced by twilight and the Order guards had turned the Jeep's brights on.

"You're adorable," he murmured and kissed my forehead. I grabbed onto his shirt and tugged, closing my eyes and holding him close to me for one final, perfect, moment before we'd have to entertain Anya for the rest of the night. Fair was fair. I had given Jack the entire day off, as we'd been abusing him as our nightly babysitter up until now.

With a sigh I let go and took a step back, grabbing his hand and tugging him along on our walk back to Anya and the waiting Jeep. "What were you trying to ask me?"

"I was just wondering what it was that you wanted to do on this trip." He swung our hands between us and glanced over at me as he added, "you've even given Elodie her heart's desire."

I shrugged, "surfing was nice."

"We sucked at it," he countered with a grin and I stepped closer to him, the chill from the evening getting to me again. I released his hand and he slid his palm across my shoulders to pull me against his side.

"We did," I laughed pleased that we found something as a family to be collectively bad at. To be fair before now I didn't think Stellan could be bad at anything athletic, I was proven wrong. I smiled, "I've had a great time," I pacified, nodding as if that would make it more convincing.

"Tell me. Anything at all. I will make it happen for you." He squeezed my tricep in emphasis and I took a breath and held it as we continued to make our way up the gravel path toward the car.

I didn't want to disappoint him. The truth was no amount of money or power could ever make this trip perfect for me. That was something I'd just have to reconcile on my own, over time, as the weight of my grief slowly eased away. He continued to wait patiently for my answer as we closed the final few yards of our walk and this small part of me wondered if he already knew that. I didn't know how he could have, but he'd always been able to read me so well. He hadn't once pressed me about my mood swings whenever something we did triggered a memory of my Mom over the past two weeks. He squeezed me close again, as if he was going to drop it, and the urge to tell him overruled my hesitation.

"Anything at all?"

"Avery," he smiled, that beautiful one that was even more attractive in the twilight surrounding us. "I blackmailed a Russian hacker to grant me access to Netflix's entire library so you could watch your girly show in Ibiza. I can handle whatever it is." He tugged me towards the Jeep as my jaw dropped at the wonder that was my husband.


	24. Chapter 23

It was raining. Again. I frowned at the stained glass window of my office as it lashed against it in a near constant drizzle. It reminded me, instantly, why London is often called 'dreary'. I'd even caught Stellan scowling about it a couple times in the last few weeks. I'm sure he was missing Paris and their possibly better weather patterns. But if I heard Jack tell me one more time that 'there's no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing' I was going to strangle him with his scarf. Maybe we could both just pick up and move to Mexico. My mind instantly wandered back to the excursion he'd planned for me before we left. The light filtering through the bamboo and banana trees, flickering across us as a wind heady with the smell of roasting coffee swept over our group. His warm fingers sliding along the bare skin on the small of back, causing a flush of goosebumps, as we hung back from the two other couples peppering the tour guide with questions about how organic the coffee really was. And that small smirk I'd never seen before when all my digging questions made him think back to his friends in Russia before the fire.

My daydream was broken up by Zara Kohnings happy voice,

"I'm sure Valentina will have a lot to contribute to this Circle woman's summit as well. She's the only other female Circle heir in a situation like mine."

"I never had a chance to meet the Martín's," I put my phone on speaker and set it on my desk, "so it will be interesting."

Elodie tapped my arms and I held them out horizontally as she wrapped her measuring tape around my hips, nodding appreciatively. I let out the breath I'd been holding. We were doing final measurements for all my upcoming holiday couture and for the first time, ever, Elodie wouldn't have to have them all taken in.

"I'm sure she will be very anxious to meet with you." Zara's usually cheerful voice dropped into a stage whisper, "Mateo has been causing them quite a bit of drama recently with all his antics."

"Indeed," I lied. I'd have to have Elodie fill me in on that.

"Thank you again, Your Majesty. I am forever grateful for your understanding."

"Of course, Zara, I'll see you in a week."

As Elodie slid the tape up to my waist I leaned over and ended the call.

"What is so strange," Elodie drawled as she cinched the pink measuring tape, "is that you don't even seem to know you're speaking in another language."

"I did it again, didn't I?"

"I know every single time I have to switch over to English for you. I can't even imagine what's happening in Stellan's brain."

I slumped, fatigued and grumpy and feeling like a disgruntled American today. Maybe it was my biased thoughts that everyone should be speaking English. Or perhaps that we continued to all dance around the reason my brain had been hard-wired for Afrikaans. But mostly, it was because I should have been sitting down to a giant turkey and a gelatinous mass of canned cranberries right now. It was Thanksgiving, and I was multitasking instead of in a food coma.

There was a polite knock and then Gemma entered with her dreaded notebook of tasks to complete for all our upcoming events. Elodie released her measuring tape with a snap and I melted into my chair, pulling out a pen from my drawer. Gemma set down the list of contracts I needed to sign without even telling me what they were. I was happy she and I trusted each other enough now that we could just keep powering through all these tasks. I turned to Elodie as I signed,

"Who is Mateo Martín and why is he causing their Family so much trouble?"

Elodie laughed, her back to me, as she shoved all her supplies into her purse.

"Mateo Martín is the reason Luc was banned from Ibiza for a year."

"Why didn't we meet this Family when we were in Spain?" I rose an eyebrow at her. Gemma slid another stack of contracts in front of me seamlessly.

"Other than the threat of imminent death and needing to stay off the radar?" She smiled brightly at me.

I gave her a glare in return. Gemma whisked away all my paperwork only to replace it with the checklist of doom. I still had months until the Leap Year Ball was going to take place here at Riberton, but Gemma already had me crossing out things I didn't like. She always gave me a visual example of what she was proposing so I could easily circle or X through them. It was both efficient and kind because she could only seem to catch me in the middle of some other meeting. Today's list was centered around table settings.

"The Martín's have always been the most relaxed Circle Family when it comes to customs and propriety," Elodie answered, dropping her purse into the chair next to her and taking a seat in front of my desk. "Plus, they have to worry about Mateo."

"I have more questions than answers now." I rolled my eyes and then pulled out a red pen from my drawer so I could put an X through Waterford Crystal Goblets.

Elodie propped her red-bottoms on the edge of my desk and I noticed, from the corner of my eye, Gemma's mouth turn down ever so slightly at the corners. She, however, remained standing rigidly proper in waiting.

"It was long rumored that Sophia, their mother, was barren. Basically a death sentence in the Circle because of the emphasis on heirs."

"So I've heard," I nodded and crossed out gaudy looking gold plates, only to realize they probably were actual gold. I put a second X through them.

"When she ended up having twins, in her 40s, it pretty much confirmed there had been fertility issues. But now their problem was solved as long as they kept their son alive. And he has done a spectacular job of trying to thwart that plan."

"How? Why?" I crossed out gold silverware as well, the list finished for today. Gemma gathered all her papers and left with a curt nod. I cracked my knuckles as I waited.

Elodie glanced toward the door to make sure it was closed and then answered, "the how is easy. Coke. He has a legendary cocaine habit."

"Oh," I blanched and shoved all my pens back into the drawer, "I guess I shouldn't be that surprised."

"You'd be the only one." She smirked.

I gave her a peculiar look. It seemed pretty obvious to me. Famous people were always in and out of rehab. With that much money, it made sense that statistically speaking there would be at least one drug addict in the Circle.

"When you turn 17 and take the tattoo all your antics beforehand have to stop. It's the formal acknowledgment of your future in the Family. This is taken very seriously."

"But not by Mateo?"

She shook her head, "he refused to get the tattoo."

My eyes bugged and I sucked in a startled gasp. "Why?"

"He wasn't done having fun. And I guess he still isn't, even though he's almost 26 now." She made a disgusted face.

"And they just let this happen?" If that was an option I would have liked to know. Not that I would have had much of a choice, but still.

"Of course not. But what could they do? If they pushed too hard he might kill himself just to spite them. They can't have any more children, and the heir has to be male." She stopped and gave a genuine smile. "Until now."

"Ahh," I smiled back. "I see."

"Everyone knows Valentina has been running that Family since she was 17. She should be the rightful heir. But it gets even more complicated for them because she's not…"

"Interested?" I guessed.

"Straight," Elodie flatly replied.

My mouth dropped open and I sucked in a quick gasp.

"I've been telling Luc for years they should work something out between them. But with the age difference and all the rumors...it would just make it too obvious. But," she punctuated, "that was all before your decree. Now all the rules have changed."

"Oh wow," I muttered, leaning back to look up at the map on the ceiling. I had to admit that I'd been thinking mostly about Luc when Elodie and I had decided on that order. But to know that she was thinking of at least one more person in the Circle it could benefit made me wonder just how much dirt she had on everyone. It made that old feeling of unease about her rise up through our slowly building friendship.

"But don't you see the beautiful chaos you've created?" Elodie said, breaking up my thoughts. "The very thing they thought would bring the Circle together, keep it at the status quo, is tearing it apart. And all of this has absolutely nothing to do with Stellan."

"Sort of makes sense why we keep having the same issues with the same Family's. They all have male heirs. Especially the Melech's." I settled deeper into my chair, letting all the varied angles of this bounce around inside my brain.

Elodie just made this small shrug in response. I looked harder at her as she narrowed her eyes to a spot on her coveted shoes. Honestly, I'd been expecting more impassioned declarations from her. With a frown at her shoes, she looked up, surprised to find me watching, and scowled,

"That Family. Have you considered my proposal more?"

"I have," I hedged, and stood moving toward the bar cart next to the stained glass window. It had booze on it, of course, but Gemma also stocked it with flavored bubbly waters and other mixers for me.

"And," Elodie crossed her arms, feet still on my desk, and tilted her head toward me.

I cracked open a bottle of Pellegrino and took a long sip before shaking my head, "can't we think of something else?"

"There is nothing else unless you want me to learn Photoshop." She sat up straight, her heels stomping onto the wood floors. "I don't see what the big deal is here."

"They're very personal, Elodie. I don't want to share that." I turned away from her pretending to fix all the knick-knacks on the shelving behind my desk so she couldn't see my raging blush.

"You're public domain now. You don't have a private life. And since the two of you absolutely refuse to stage a wedding I need to use something to break up this news cycle the Meleck's are currently dominating." She finished with a huff of indignation and I took in a deep breath trying to hold back the snappy tone I wanted to have.

She had been fighting me about this for days now. Her 'proposal' was to use the pictures from Mexico to plant a story about the two of us going on some 'half-honeymoon' trip. It was unfortunate that David Meleck had passed away unexpectedly while we were in Mexico, but that didn't necessitate her publicizing the most private part of my life for a competitive edge. We had caught a lot of flack for not being at the funeral, but there wasn't a logistical way we could have made it back in time considering how fast Jewish burials are. I understood the need to wrestle back control over the news feed, but there was no way I was going to let her take this trip from me.

"No," I evenly replied. "They would just make us look worse if you juxtapose the two of us laughing on a beach against a funeral. It would be the British Museum all over again."

"That's all I have!" She threw her hands out and stood to pace in front of my desk.

"I find that very hard to believe."

"What is your suggestion then?" She snapped at me and I felt myself flinch in reaction to her out of character aggression about this. But she didn't notice, she was still pacing, thinking out loud as she continued with,

"I'll have to comb through everyone's phones to find some that could fit the narrative best."

Anger started to override my calm and I tried to force it back down, flatly saying, "don't make me tell you again."

"Or what?" She challenged, crossing her arms. My temper broke through my control and I battled the urge to hurl my bottle across the room in my rage. I set it down slowly and carefully, watching her frown falter the longer I took.

"It's an order now." I put my hands on the desk and glared right back at her. "If I ever see those pictures anywhere but on our phones, I'm going to blame you. Understood?"

"_Compris, votre majesté_." She gave me a deep bow and then snatched her purse off the chair and stormed out, the door slamming behind her.

I grabbed my Pellegrino, squeezing as hard as I dared to breathe down the potentially spiraling anger of my PCS that was getting harder and harder to control lately. It wasn't helping. The room felt too small to contain my building explosion. Plus it was full of priceless shit I really shouldn't be destroying because Elodie pissed me off. I glanced out the window to see it had finally stopped raining, I grabbed my coat. I had to get out of here.

Slipping through one of the hidden panels, I walked down the back hallways and out onto the side of the manor. It was the garage side, where all the drivers and cars would wait until they were summoned. Since we were supposed to be inside all day I knew I was going to have a rare moment of privacy out in this rain. The snap of cold, humid air made my lungs shake as I took in a long breath and let my heels crunch in all the wet gravel on my way down one of the paths toward the garage.

I smelled it first, the cigarette smoke, then the sound of feet shuffling, and a cough before,

"It's proper pay, but I'll never get that Porsche 918 on just this salary."

"Like you could get one of those working anywhere else."

The second voice let out a little laugh and I watched as a plume of smoke swirled up into the gray sky. I took a crunching step backward, I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, that hadn't been the point of fleeing my warm office.

"That's why I've been chatting up a Dauphin driver about this."

There was a small sound I couldn't place, then a whistle from one of them before another long exhale, the smoke hung in the air above them like a small cloud.

"That'd fetch you plenty I reckon." The second voice said.

"Oh, it has, mate. Had to get a stronger batch this time. Those St. Lucia's girls eat 'em like candy."

The rage flooded me. The boiling, unruly kind I couldn't control, warming my body better than my heavy jacket was. For fucking real? The driver was a drug dealer? Did we have to do everything ourselves? Didn't Jack screen all these assholes?

My heels started stomping across the gravel before I'd even registered the movement. I stormed past the topiary hedge that had been concealing me before and watched them both turn around to face me, in surprise, before automatically straightening in fear. One was clenching a small bag in his palm, the corner sticking out before he shifted his hands behind his back, the other swung his hands behind his back, cigarette still lit. They were younger than I would have expected.

"Your Majesty," they both stumbled and stuttered over the words, bowing their heads.

I held out my hand to the second one, his shirt untucked and hanging out under his suit jacket. He swung his hands back in front of himself and I grabbed his newly lit cigarette out of his fingers, holding it between my thumb and pointer finger, staring down the other one as I tried to breathe. My heart was pounding in my chest from the rage. I took a deep breath, my intimidation wouldn't be very effective if I couldn't get the words out without panting.

The first driver was flushing, these bright spots of color on his cheeks despite the freezing temperatures. The smoke wafted up toward me as a bitter wind whipped down the path between us. I tossed the butt at the feet of the second driver the orange embers instantly sliding deep into a puddle.

"You too, give it to me," I ordered, holding out my hand to the first driver. He swallowed hard and then held out the baggie filled with small, white circles. I snatched it from his palm.

"Your Majesty I can explain," he croaked.

I shook my head, "your badge too."

He pulled it from his inside jacket pocket and reluctantly handed it over, not making eye contact. I looked at his grinning face on the picture and then clenched it tight in my fist, "you're on Anya's detail, aren't you?"

"Ah, shite," the second driver cursed under his breath.

I tucked the drugs and badge into the pocket of my jacket and nodded, "your jackass pal over here is having the right reaction."

"Please, Your Majesty, I can explain," he started but abruptly stopped from the look I leveled at him.

"Report to Roberts. I need to decide how I'm going to deal with you. You too asshole."

"Your Majesty," they both bowed and quickly took off around the side of the house. I waited until I couldn't hear their crunching steps anymore before I sucked in a deep breath, the frigid air burning my lungs and forcing a cough. I let out a few more steamy breaths, attempting to get control of the rage monster building in my chest before moving back into the house. I had to find Jack.

I flung open the door for the back hallway, then started storming through the main house until I reached our wing, slamming the door open and yelling out,

"Jack!"

Elodie popped her head up from the other side of the couch and then nodded toward Stellan's office, following quickly behind me. I shoved the cracked door open and watched as Jack and Stellan snapped to attention at the desk.

"_Kuklachka_, what's wrong?" Stellan was the first to ask. I ignored him, still steaming toward Jack. I grabbed the badge out of my pocket and threw it at him. He caught it mid-air, as Elodie settled against Stellan's chair, her head cocked in open curiosity. I stopped in front of him, crossing my arms,

"I thought you were personally screening all these motherfuckers."

"Slow down," he held his palms out toward me, the badge pressed between two fingers and searched my face for a moment. "What happened?"

"I caught this stellar hire bragging about how he's been selling Molly he bought off one of the Dauphin drivers."

"What?!" All three of them shouted in unison. I nodded and jutted my chin toward the badge still pressed between his fingers.

"Why don't you look at that name and tell me why I'm so pissed about this?"

He quickly flipped the badge up so he could read the name and his face fell. I waited, the silence building with the tension in his jaw, but he still didn't say anything, so I took a step toward him and quietly warned,

"You know how seriously I take her security. Especially now with all this extra coverage we've been having."

"I do," he shot in and gave me a pacifying look, but I was too worked up.

"Not only does this compromise her safety, but the Saxon part of this whole circus can't take a scandal like that right now."

"It was a mistake," he said in an even tone, shoving the badge into the pocket of his slacks.

"Except now there are two people in our private detail you signed off on that couldn't be trusted."

"I find that very insulting." His voice rose with indignation as his eyes widened on his face.

"I don't." I crossed my arms, clenching my jaw so I didn't immediately unload onto him.

Stellan and Elodie froze at the desk from my peripheral vision and my arm fluttered with tingles of pain. It didn't help calm me. Jack continued to just stand there, flabbergasted, looking like he was ready for me to apologize to him. There was no fucking way.

"You grew up here. You considered these people your family, they were grooming you for greatness. And when you abandoned them to leave with Stellan and me, you were labeled a traitor to the Circle." I stopped to take a breath as he shifted on his feet, uneasy. "Except now you've come back to the same exact place as the Keeper of the Watch for the 13th Family."

"What is your point?" He crossed his arms as well, narrowing his eyes at me.

"You have conflicting loyalties and you're resting on your laurels. I need to know that you haven't become complacent because we came back here and that you're loyal to _us_ now."

"Of course I am," he snapped.

I looked him up and down. "We'll see."

"Avery," Stellan warned, his voice quiet and even. I knew what that tone was for. We both ignored him.

"Despite everything that's gone wrong in the past between the two of us I still trust you, Jack." I nodded to emphasize. "But I am starting to question your judgment."

"I'll take care of this," he growled.

I closed the space between us and lowly threatened, "you better."

With a tight nod, he turned and stormed out of the room, Elodie quick on his heels, whispering in French to him as the door swung shut behind them. I threw my hands over my face and turned away from Stellan's silent examination. We both knew what had been driving a lot of that. But like every time before that my PCS had turned on me, it hadn't been without merit. It was like it amplified what I was already feeling to bring me to a level I felt like everyone else was always functioning at. I'd been taught my whole life how to blend in, play nice, and keep things to myself. Only to be thrown up against three people with such commanding personalities I felt lost amongst them most of the time. I'd take the edge, especially on something as important as this.

I heard Stellan's desk creak as he stood and dropped my hands, exhaling and glaring at the fire. This also marked the second time today I had to put our friends in their 'place'. It was too fucking weird. The multiplicity of my life was overwhelming. Where was the line? How would I ever know if I crossed it? Did they even feel this same kind of horrible guilt? Or had they both been conditioned so much by the Circle that it didn't seem bizarre to them? Did they even consider themselves my friends?

Stellan's fingers trailed through the bottom of my hair, twisting it around as he waited for me to say the first thing. It was something he'd started doing recently, so he could gauge my mood. But I didn't want his reassurance right now, I needed some more space to sort all this out. If I'd done the right thing as a Queen, if I'd done the wrong thing as a friend, if Hugo Dauphin was trying to fuck with us by selling our driver Molly. My life was so weird.

"Have you talked to your…"

"No," I cut him off. He dropped his fingers from their tangling.

"Are you ever going to?" He grumbled more to himself than anything. But I whirled on him, still too keyed up to act rationally.

"All that would accomplish is a potential leak of incredibly damaging information we've managed to somehow keep under wraps right now."

"Order doctors." He slowly replied eyeing me cautiously but standing his ground.

"What?"

He pressed his lips together at my tone but then calmly answered, "all of your doctors are Order doctors. Even if you needed a...new one it would be an Order member as your doctor."

I glared at him. I knew what he meant by 'new', it was code for a shrink. I crossed my arms over my chest, "until that person is compromised."

"Fair enough," he sighed. "Will you consider it?"

I spun away from him and took a step toward the fire in response. It was obviously time to meet with someone about my broken brain. But it sure as shit wasn't going to be today. I frowned remembering again it was Thanksgiving. It made me feel even more isolated from the group, tyrannical Queen rants aside. I wondered if I could covertly ask the chef to whip together something for me without having everyone make fun of my nostalgia.

"I didn't think it was possible but you are even more adorable when you pout," Stellan said giving the ends of my hair a light tug. He gave them a final twirl and then moved back to his desk grabbing his jacket and phone. I stuck my tongue out at him, his gentle teasing slowly erasing my anger. He was like my own personal bomb squad.

"It's not pouting when you're right."

"Then what," he lowly asked stopping in front of me to lean down and kiss the corners of my frown, "is this?"

"Pumpkin pie withdrawals," I grumbled.

He straightened, his eyebrows scrunching on his forehead as he buttoned his jet black pea coat. I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the itchy wool and breathed him in for a minute, chanting internally - _don't go, don't go, don't go_.

"You want me to cancel?" He quietly asked, his hand cupping the back of my head. I forced myself to shake out a no as I took a deep breath of fireplace smoke and cologne and damp wool. I was trying very hard not to cross into openly needy territory. Elodie and Jack were going to give me a wide berth the rest of the night after my outbursts, and his Order meeting was in town.

"You want me to buy you pie?" He laughed a little as he pressed a kiss on the crown of my head and let go. I pulled away from him as well and brightened with a small grin.

"The best pumpkin pie in the city. And real whipped cream, not the canned stuff."

"As you wish," he smirked and then glanced at his phone on his way toward the front of the house.

The popping and crackling of the fire sounded loud in the room now, triggering the slight buzz of my tinnitus as background white noise. I moved closer to the fire as I waited for it to subside and shoved my hands into my pockets, my fingers making contact with the bag of Molly. This time, now that I knew I didn't have an audience, I let the pathetic sounding whine come out with my exhale. I had to find Jack after all. He'd probably want the hard evidence when he accused the guy and to set it on fire or flush it down the toilet or whatever you did to discard illegal drugs.

I made my way toward the front of the house, gritting my teeth at having to see Jack again so soon after our spat only to see my saving grace. Gemma.

"Ma'am," she nodded toward me.

"Have you seen Jack?" I glanced around the living room as if he'd materialize.

"Mr. Bishop is in the basement I believe."

That stopped me cold. I'd been calling it such sinister things in my mind basement seemed benign. You had parties and played air hockey in a basement. I could feel Gemma watching me as I battled with my decision on what to do next. On the one hand, I could just hang onto the Molly until I saw him later, take a super long bath and watch _Love, Actually_ on our giant TV in our room until Stellan came home with my pie. On the other hand, I should be following through on all the threats I keep making to my...staff. If I wasn't holding Jack accountable for everything I was demanding from him how could I ever be taken seriously? And as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was going to have to go down there eventually.

"Ma'am?" Gemma broke up my turmoil and I snapped my eyes back to her.

"Thank you, it's just that panel at the end of the hallway, right?"

"Correct," she gave me a curt nod. I clenched my hand around the Molly in my pocket and started walking before I could psych myself out.

From the hallway, you couldn't hear or see anything that would indicate it was a secret entrance. But the longer I lived here the more and more of these push panels I was finding, one in almost every room. I slid my fingers along the seam in the panel and then pushed at the solid oak trim that separated the two different types of wallpaper. A soft click could be heard and then the wall popped out into my hand to reveal the fake panel and steel door.

I turned the cold knob and held my breath, hoping it would be locked so I could turn around and a least say I tried. It opened. My whole body tensed and then I pushed through the discomfort and made myself start going down the set of concrete stairs. A woozy feeling of apprehension came over me with every step down. It reminded me too much of the tomb, the only difference here being that the lights weren't jimmy rigged or the smell cloying and claustrophobic. With sinking dread, I realized it was because this was supposed to be used all the time, not once in a lifetime.

At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped, surprised. I was expecting to see a series of cells like I'd been detained in underneath the Louvre or some kind of _Silence of the Lambs_ shit. Instead, it stopped in front of two doors, one was about five steps in front of me across the landing, the other was to my right. The one in front had the door ajar and I took a steadying breath and slowly inched it open. It was a command room.

There weren't any windows on the three remaining walls, only giant TVs that had split-screen views of point all over the property. It filled the room with an artificial bluish glow, enough to make out the gist of the space but not enough light to see details. Across all the screens you could see the usual run of the mill domestic events, the gardeners raking up leaves, tons of empty rooms where the art and ancient furniture were held, even the formal kitchen where it appeared all the house staff was having their dinner. There were only two things that weren't on these giant TV's - our private wing and whatever was behind that second door.

Beneath them, smaller screens were placed across the desk that ran the length of the room. There were three empty chairs with matching amounts of keyboards and mice. On two of them was the same thing - a split screen of six boxes. Two of the boxes were pitch black, two more showcased simple, lit, cells that you would expect to see in prison, but the final two boxes were of different angles of a large white room. When I looked to the third desktop screen I could tell it was showing one of those camera angles. There were stacks of metal chairs pushed into a corner, and a drain in the center of the smooth concrete floor, but otherwise it was a blank, white, space.

I heard a door open and jumped, whirling around to expect some kind of attack, only to realize it was coming through unseen speakers somewhere on the desk. Bodies ambled onto the screen with shuffling and huffs until five people were in the room. I instantly recognized Jack's back. Then Roberts to Jack's left and one of the guards he'd been training for my security team on his right. Finally, the last two back turned toward the camera as they stood against the white wall - the drivers.

I glanced around the control room as if it could tell me what to do next. Clearly, they were in the process of reprimanding the drivers so I didn't have to stay. I didn't have to hand the Molly over to Jack either, I could just place it on this command table and then text him that I'd left it there. That seemed like the smart thing to do at this point. I started pulling the baggie out of my pocket when I heard a clicking tongue noise and then,

"So inconvenient."

Roberts shook his head as he took them in, clicking his tongue again. It made my skin crawl. Something about all of this felt very wrong. I turned to the door when I heard Jack's voice next,

"You knew the rules when you signed up, Trevor."

"I'm sorry," the driver I'd caught immediately started to grovel, hands pleading, shaking. "Please! Please!"

"What do you think?" Jack ignored him and turned to Roberts.

"Your hire, your fire," Robert's shrugged.

A flood of blood cooling panic raced through me, freezing me in place. This alarm started going off in my head to flee, turn, at least close my eyes but it was muted against the horror unfolding in slow motion in front of me. I knew what was going to happen. Roberts had, for sure, murdered that maid that was leaking information to the press. Except it was Jack that reached behind his back and swung out his gun, finger already on the trigger. I gasped. The driver flinched, barely strangling out,

"No! Pl…"

BANG!

The Molly slipped from my hand spilling on the ground as I jerked in reaction, everything curling inward and my eyes, finally, closing. I kept them focused at the ground and hit my knees, sloppily shoving all the drugs back into the bag with shaking hands. With them all back in my possession I looked back at the screen to see a smear of blood on the wall where the driver's body had been and the terrified accomplice, eyes closed, feverishly whispering to himself, as if he was praying.

"Look at me," Jack ordered in this harsh and unapologetic tone I would have never known was him unless I'd seen it come out of his mouth on the screen. He stepped over the body as he moved in on the terrified driver when he didn't reply. The driver forced his eyes open, but his lips never stopped moving, slowly curling into himself and away from the threat in front of him.

"That's what happens when you put the 13th Family at risk. Did I make myself clear?" Jack questioned, his voice remorseless and even toned. It made it seem even more terrifying.

"Crystal," the driver choked, shaking, keeping direct eye contact like if he moved he might be next.

"Make sure you remind everyone else of that." Jack gave him one last glance and then turned away to look at the body on the ground, waving him off with, "dismissed."

I ran. Up the stairs, the metal door banging behind me in my haste, down the hall, into the private wing and then stood there in the middle of the living room unsure where to go next. All I had inside me was panic, the adrenaline making my heart thud hard against my ribs and my hands shake. I didn't know what to do, but I didn't like being in such a wide open space. I dashed for my office, slamming the door shut behind me and pacing the floor in front of my desk trying to work through all my shock. I shoved my shaking hands into my pockets and felt the Molly bag again and ripped it out, darting around my desk to shove it into a drawer and slam that closed as well.

Pain welled in three out of the four of my fingers and I pressed my lips together so I didn't scream. I yanked my fingers out from the drawer and saw the bruise instantly start blooming. I had to calm down, there had to be something I could do. I spun in place, holding my injured hand to my chest and spotted the bar cart. I dove for it, tossing the lid off the vodka bottle onto the cart with a plunk and taking a quick slug of it straight from the source. It burned all the way down and I let out a giant cough before forcing down another one. The mix of pain and booze distracted me just enough from my panic to take a deep breath. As I exhaled, I flexed my fingers, winced and then heard my doorknob rattle. It had to be Stellan. I whirled around right as the door swung open and came face to face with Jack.

"Gemma said you were looking for me?" He asked with a bright smile.

"No," I blurted and then clenched my mouth shut, unable to trust it.

His smile started to falter a little, his eyes taking in all my telltale signs that I was in duress.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine," I blurted again. "I have to get ready, excuse me."

It was the worst possible lie. We all knew each other's schedules now and I had nothing left to do tonight. His eyes darted from my still red and bruising fingers, to the cap on the bar cart, to the flush I knew was covering my face as he opened the door wider for me.

"Sure," he nodded, but couldn't hide his suspicion.

I kept considerate space between us as I moved around him on my way out and then forced myself not to run to my room. I even managed to get the door closed quietly before the panic started to rule me again. Did I lock my door? No, that would be too suspicious. But he had no problem coming in here before to talk to me, even though it was our private bedroom. I had to do something that would ensure he didn't come in. My eyes fell on the bathroom and I started ripping all my clothes off, tossing them at the ground as I made my way to the mini pool we called a tub. I turned the water as hot as it could go and sunk in, submerging myself until the sound of my tinnitus was the only thing I could hear in my head.

* * *

Andrew Lincoln's character started flipping through his slightly creepy romantic gesture cue cards for Kiera Knightly when our bedroom door finally opened. I paused the movie on her surprised face as Stellan quietly made his way into the room. He was still in his peacoat and holding a brown paper bag with some kind of design on the front. When he turned around his eyes went wide with surprise. To be fair I normally passed out before 11PM.

"Why are you awake _moi malenkii omar_?"

I rose an eyebrow at the Russian as he tossed his jacket at the chair near the door and made his way over with the bag. He set it down on the bed next to me and then ran a cold thumb across my still warmed cheek.

"Crab?" I guessed.

"Lobster," he gave me a faint smile and kicked his shoes off, settling into the bed next to me, staring so hard at the screen it was as if he was trying to look through it. All the tension the movie had distracted me from started to build back up at his silence. But then he shook his head a few times and opened the bag, pulling out the box of pie and little containers of whipped cream, complete with takeaway cutlery.

I broke my fork free from the wrapping and shoved it right into the center of the pie. My fork carved out a big glob and I forced it down over the welling of tears trying to build back up in my throat. He hit play on the remote, settling in and taking the pie from me to take his own giant bite.

We sat there, in perfect quiet, spreading crumbs over the sheets as we watched the rest of _Love Actually_ together. As the credits started to roll I pushed the half-eaten pie away from myself, the panic and tears building another ball in my throat. When I looked over he was staring through the screen again, lost in thought, and so distant from me this prickling of worry percolated up through all my own whirling emotions.

"Thanksgiving," was the first thing he said, still looking at the credits scrolling up the screen.

"Yep," I nodded.

"Sorry," he finally looked over at me, huge bags under his eyes and this line of tension on his forehead I wanted to smooth out with my finger. "I forget these things sometimes."

"American holidays? I wouldn't worry about it." I grabbed the remote and turned the system off.

"No," he said, pushing the pie and supplies back into the paper bag, "things that would make you feel more at home."

The tears forced their way up into my eyes and I quickly wiped them away as he turned from me, putting the pie on the ground next to his side of the bed. It made me feel adored and horrible all at the same time because that thought had never crossed my mind for him. I wouldn't even know something that would make him feel more at home. Would it be something he did in France, with Luc? Something he remembered from his childhood in Russia? The sweetness of the pie churned in my stomach making me feel a wave of nausea. What was home anyway? Neither of us could ever go home again.

He pursed his lips and let out a very long breath, everything on him still rigid and removed from all the cozy warmth of our orange bed. I could count on a single hand the number of times we'd just sat here. Usually, we ended up horizontal within twenty minutes. Something was wrong, very wrong. He sensed me watching him and looked over, his eyes detailing the giant bruises on my fingers. I clenched my fist to hide them, he looked back at the blank TV screen.

"What did you do tonight?" His voice was smooth and quiet, but his detachment from the whole situation made me wonder if he already knew. How hard would it have been for Jack to go down to that awful control room, run the videos back and see that I had been down there? Maybe if I came clean about how awful my night had gone he could too.

"I went down to the basement," I quietly started. He looked sharply over at me. "To give Jack the Molly."

"And?" He demanded, his jaw tensing. So he definitely hadn't heard anything from Jack. I took a deep breath to steady myself and let it all come gushing out.

"He...shot that driver. The guy was pleading with him. He didn't even care. It was like he was a rat or something, a pest, not a human being. And he just..." I stopped. I couldn't say any more. I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to force the sight of it away. Continuing with,

"I've seen death right next to me." I pulled my hands away and watched him swim into view, "I've watched you kill people. Why is this…"

"_Kuklachka._"

"Why?" I begged him.

"Because this time it wasn't an immediate threat. It was an order."

The words hit into my chest like a punch. That's what I'd done, hadn't I? I would have never suggested murdering someone to fix a problem like that, but this was still the Circle after all. In the end, he works for me, and if I told him to fix it he was going to make sure it never happened again. I looked over at Stellan,

"Have you had to do that?"

He looked away and in that crushing silence, I knew that he had. But it was his posture, the small tremor in his hand as he picked up some crumbs on our bedding that told me something else was going on. He swallowed hard and leaned back against the headboard, sinking against it like he was being weighed down.

"What happened at the Order meeting, Stellan?"

My tone, even in my ears, made it sound like I already knew it was something bad. He met my eyes, his face serious, but his eyes holding this relief in them. As if he was relieved he wouldn't have to bring it up himself, like he needed to unload this burden onto someone. I slid my hands across the sheets and squeezed the top of his.

"My number went up."

There was a long beat of silence until I whispered,

"Nine?"

He nodded. I tugged on his hand until he laid his head in my lap, his arms looping around my hips, as I stroked his hair. He squeezed me tighter and tighter until I finally felt safe enough to fall asleep.


	25. Chapter 24

_Can I ask you something but you won't say anything to Stellan?_

_Of course, Anya._

_I want to stay here for Christmas break._

_Oh._

_That's really short notice._

_It's only two weeks until winter break._

I felt a hesitant Elodie slide up next to me and glance at my phone.

"Ouch," she drug the word out and made this groaning sound in her throat.

"Right?" I whispered back, looking through all the twinkling lights around us like reading his name could summon him.

"How are you going to let him down gently?" She wondered aloud. The bangles on her bracelet were clanging as she quickly typed on her phone while simultaneously scanning the crowd for the guys.

"Me?" I hissed back. My breath formed a small cloud and broke up as it lifted into the star-filled sky. She just laughed as my phone buzzed with a flurry of texts from Anya.

_It's okay. _

_Nevermind._

_Forget it._

_I'll just come._

_Why do you want to stay? _

I shifted in my knee high, three-inch heeled boots Elodie swore I had to wear for this 'date night' I was about to suffer through. The text bubble of Anya's reply kept popping up and going away. I locked my phone and looked around Hyde Park's Winter Wonderland. It was as if a Christmas decoration store had thrown up on a county fair. That was harsh, but I was grumpy, or _lunatique_ as Elodie had started calling me since Thanksgiving. I still hadn't tried to look it up because I was pretty sure even the way it sounded in English was pretty spot on.

Hyde Park was dark, cold, and had way more gawking people than I was used to. Groups of teenagers and some women much older than me were openly pointing as they gobbled down super long hot dogs, or sipped from steaming cups of coffee. The thing that bothered me most was that this would have been a fun date night if Stellan and I weren't two of the most photographed people in London these days. I finally felt a series of buzzes and unlocked my phone again.

_All my friends are staying._

_I'll get extra riding time._

_I really don't want to go to that Christmas ball._

"You and me both," I grumbled, then took a deep frigid breath.

_I will talk to him._

_But he still might say no._

_Thank you, Avery!_

_You're the best!_

"She has way too much faith in me." I shook my head and tossed my phone into my purse, handing it over to Elodie.

"You're the good cop she's been waiting for her whole life," Elodie smirked, swinging my bag onto her other shoulder.

"So that makes Stellan the bad cop?" I laughed.

"I can count on one hand the number of times Stellan wasn't a domineering fun killer and three of them are too sordid to be telling his new wife."

"Elodie!" I whipped my head around hoping no one heard us. I doubted it with the bubble of space our security guards had created but I wanted to be sure. I sat down on the bench outside the ice skating rink, the cold seeping through my black skinny jeans.

"I never said they involved me," she clarified. "I'm Luc's friend too you know."

"I bet I'm the only person who doesn't know all this."

"Hold onto the mystery, Avery." She shifted both of the bags and scowled out into the crowd searching for them again. "When it fades so does the love."

My mouth quirked with disapproval, but then I heard another person whisper-shout my name and looked up to see more pointing. _Right_, I had to be on point tonight, this was for the cameras. I forced my face back into neutral. Stellan and Jack were late, and there was only so much staring at Elodie I could do before it would look weird for the cameras. I glanced at all the decorations of snowflakes, holly and nutcrackers lit up around us and I remembered an important mission.

I leaned toward Elodie and asked, "did you get it yet?"

"You'll have to be more specific," she rose a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. I scowled at her in return, only to quickly pretend to laugh it off as I heard another round of pops from the flashes go off behind us.

"The item I asked you to procure for me," I answered, fluffing my scarf in an attempt to look casual.

"That's not helping me..." Elodie drawled and I quickly snapped back,

"For Stellan!"

"Oh." She smiled, genuinely, at me. "Yes. By the end of this week."

I nodded in approval and then bounced my legs anxiously on the bench. Maybe I could put my skates on to kill some time as we continued to wait. As I slid the zipper down on my first boot and grabbed the plastic blue ice skate Elodie finally turned back around to face me shaking her head,

"Stellan has to do that."

"Don't do this to me," I begged her. She shrugged it off.

"Do you know how to ice skate?"

"Of course I do," I snapped starting to get annoyed at this whole setup. I zipped my boot back up as I tried not to glare at her. Since I couldn't put my own damn skates on I pulled my leather jacket closer instead. Then a kink in her plan materialized in my brain, "does Stellan?"

"I...don't…know." Her perfect red pout dropped open a little as she realized the error in her grandiose setup. I pulled my scarf up over my mouth so you couldn't see me laugh. It wasn't every day you could stump Elodie.

She narrowed her eyes at me, composing herself, and then rose an eyebrow with her seemingly nonchalant shrug, "he's good at everything I'm sure this is another one of those things."

"He sucked at surfing," I mused, watching with glee as her eyes widened in fear. She let out a slew of what I could only assume was French cursing and then shook her head, grumbling,

"_Non, non_, it's not supposed to happen this way. He's supposed to help you on the ice."

"So, I can't put my own skates on, and I have to pretend I don't know how to skate?" I crossed my arms over my chest so I wouldn't throw them out toward her in my exasperation.

"It's more romantic that way."

"Not if his giant 6-foot ass takes me out!" I hissed at her and we both flinched at the pop of a flash from the paparazzi. I wasn't sure if they were Elodie's hired hands or not, there were so many now it was getting hard to differentiate when we were outside the walls of Riberton. Instantly we both regained composure and I gave her a big, fake, smile. Her eyes shot warning daggers at me but she forced through the teeth of her own big, fake, smile,

"Please."

I pretended to laugh as I said, "it's like living in a bad rom-com whenever I step outside."

"If you'd just let me use the Mex…" she started to say to the ground as she adjusted our bags.

"Watch it." I cut over her through my teeth and then focused on zipping up my jacket again so I could look down as I finished with, "an ice skate is basically a knife."

"I don't know what all this," she leaned toward me make a quick circle around my face and then fluffed my hair, "is about lately but I like it."

"That doesn't surprise me," I narrowed my eyes at her.

To both our relief Jack and Stellan came stalking through the crowd, his Order guards a few feet behind. They were deep in conversation, oblivious to everyone gawking at them as they made their way over. Even Elodie's scowl didn't stop their back and forth. They settled, standing, right next to us, still ignoring the task at hand and I rose an eyebrow in intrigue. This was either going to be something interesting or awful. Who was I kidding? It was going to be awful.

"Realistically though, how much more time are we talking about?" Stellan turned and gave Jack a piercing blue glare.

"You want me to put hours on it?" He returned with an exasperated shake of his head.

"I want you to give me an answer," he evenly replied, though his fists balled up before he shoved them into his jacket pockets.

"You kept dragging your feet about this and now we have to make a snap decision." Jack crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his stormy eyes at Stellan. I couldn't stop my reaction to it, my fake happy smile sliding off my face. Elodie started to make these little huffs in her chest like she was about to break all this up, lest it ruin her perfect photo op.

"Interesting choice of wording," Stellan snarled.

"Two days," Jack finally spat at him. Stellan sucked in a giant breath through his nose, right as Jack squared his shoulders and I glanced over at Elodie whose eyes had gone huge in surprise. If it was because she knew what they were talking about or she was worried they were about to get into a fist fight in the middle of the Winter Wonderland I wasn't so sure. I need to break this up, fast.

"For what?" I loudly asked over all their brooding silence. The boys seemed to shake awake, looking around the venue for a moment before landing on me, sitting on the bench, my big fake smile on display for the clicking and pointing still happening around us. They quickly shifted their faces to something neutral, dropping their shoulders and then Jack let out a sigh as he finally answered,

"Lydia Saxon went on a hunger strike at the beginning of this week."

I quickly looked down at my rings, twirling them around my finger to hide my shock a little. Memories of our brief and tumultuous relationship flooded over all my emotional control for this very public outing. I knew we would eventually have to have this conversation, but I wasn't exactly ready to be having it here. I'd sort of been hoping they would just tell me she'd died one day and that heavy weight of fear and guilt and worry about her could finally lift. Maybe that could still happen. I blinked against an onslaught of camera flashes and struggled back toward my acting.

"Not here," I gave Jack a big, fake, smile.

He looked around at the guards giving them a few nods and they stepped away from us more, making our circle of privacy even bigger as the growing crowd of onlookers started to get brave. Satisfied he replied, "yes here."

Stellan slammed the toe of his boot into the ground, digging it into the dirt and let out a couple of dark chuckles from his jaw tight. A pinch of pain in my arm made my anger rise as well.

"Are you stupid or just being a dick?" I cracked back at him.

"Everyone smile, right now," Elodie hastily ordered. I plastered on my fake smile, while Jack and I continued to glare at each other. "Stellan go get your skates."

"Absolutely not," he said in a gruff tone. She sucked in a harassed breath and marched over to the stand.

"There is no time," Jack answered shoving his hands into his pockets and shifting his weight to break up his aggressive looking stance.

"You just said we had two fucking days."

"Avery," Stellan warned and I tried to settle. I could not blow up on Jack in front of all these people. Despite knowing Stellan wanted to as well. I rubbed at my arm over my jacket as Elodie rushed over with a pair of gigantic looking skates and I turned my attention back to 'the date'.

Our security guards started talking into their lapels as the crowd grew more around us. Stellan sat next to me pulling his boots off first and shoving his feet into his skates. Elodie started quickly snapping things in French to him and he gave her the most exasperated look. I could have kissed him right there. I probably should have, but I could still feel Jack's glare on me and there was only so much acting I could do in a day.

As I unzipped and started to pull my first boot off, Stellan grabbed a skate, Jack moved closer and lowered his voice to say,

"I understand the necessity of this publicity stunt…"

"Avery, look over your shoulder and smile up at Stellan." Elodie's whisper cut over him.

My brain started to swim with the duplicity of this moment. I did as she said, Stellan strapping me in as I was blinded by the number of flashes now capturing this perfectly crafted scene. When I reached down, fumbling for my other boot he continued,

"But urgent items I inform you of..."

"Now drape your leg over his and smile as he buckles your skate." Elodie directed over him again and the rage boiled in my chest. Now was not the fucking time. But I couldn't even hear the annoying Christmas music over the noise of the crowd.

I hauled my leg up over onto Stellan's who made quick work of strapping me in, giving my leg a pat as I forced my fake smile at the side of his face. Jack reached down to grab both of our shoes roughly, even his patience wearing thin with all of this,

"There will never be a good time to..."

"Now stand up and pretend like you're going to fall so he can steady you."

"Goddammit, Elodie!" I growled through my teeth. Stellan stood and offered me a hand up and I almost didn't take it.

"Do it!" She hissed at me. Stellan yanked me to my feet and I let out a big, fake laugh as I seethed,

"If you wanted me to make front page news why don't I just make out with Jack?"

"That's not awkward at all," Stellan grumbled and tugged me a step closer to him.

"If it would please Her Majesty I can make that happen," Elodie said giving me a huge condescending smile.

I tensed, ready to turn and pounce on her when Stellan crushed me to his chest, letting out a fake laugh as Jack cleared his throat. I took three struggling breaths against his stranglehold, and then tried to squirm away from the hard kisses he was planting on the top of my head. Finally, Elodie said something in French that made both of the boys sigh and he released me, but not before leveling a warning look. Without even looking over at her I said loud enough so I knew she could hear me,

"I'm going to burn all your shoes. Tonight."

She started grumbling things I couldn't quite make out as we moved past the two of them and out onto the slippery ice.

"Do you even know how to ice skate?" I snapped.

He didn't say anything, instead, he pushed about a foot ahead of me and with a little hop started skating backward. He held out a hand, keeping pace, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and took it.

"Are Russians born in ice skates?" I wondered aloud. A few groups of giggling girls pointed as we passed. Stellan shrugged,

"You obviously know very little about Sweden."

As I thought that over I, of course, hit a divot in the ice and tumbled toward him. He effortlessly righted me, spinning back around so he could slide an arm around my waist and keep me upright. I wanted to shake him off, I knew how to skate, but as I caught the flashes and the swooning faces of the crowd as we passed I just gave into Elodie's plan. Maybe if I forced myself to smile until I pulled a muscle I could hole up in the house until after the holiday's now. I wanted to leave and talk about Lydia. I wanted to finish my fight with Jack. But now there were far too many ears around us.

Instead, I kept quiet and skated, forcing myself to keep smiling as I watched all the people skating around me have an actual, authentic, time here. It filled me with this strange mix of angry sadness as I took in the surroundings more. The beautiful gazebo in the center of the ice skating rink, the giant glass bulbs above us, the cinnamon and fried food smells filling the small arena and the shrieks of laughter as people attempted not to fall. Why didn't I get to have a life like that too? I suppose I did have one moment - in Mexico.

I could still remember the smell of the cedar trees billowing around us as we followed the group toward the football field-sized concrete slab of coffee beans. We'd ignored the tour guide telling the other couples how long they dry the beans out for. Instead, he stopped us and pressed me into one of the columns for the roof kissing me until I was breathless. Then whispered that he wished his mother could have met me.

The squealing laughter of a small girl broke apart my memory and I looked up to see a blue beanie with small white snowflakes fall off her blonde hair as she landed with a thud on the ice. _Right. Anya. As if this night couldn't get any worse._ I tugged on his jacket until he looked down,

"I have some more bad news."

"Avery!" Someone yelled, but I ignored it. "Oh my god, Avery!"

There was a commotion in front of us, bodies parting, bumping and slipping out of the way as everyone ground to a halt. Stellan instinctively grabbed my arm and yanked me closer, his other hand moving toward the small of his back and I tensed. But then a spill of curly red hair and a familiar heart shape face swam into view. I blinked, completely flabbergasted, as she slid closer to the two of us. Then a wall of suits cut her off as Stellan's grip on my arm tightened and I shook awake.

"Amelia?" I called toward her.

"Avery!" She waved around the guards but kept her distance, her bright smile and brilliant green eyes sparkling in surprise.

"You know her?" Stellan whispered toward me and I nodded, still stunned. "How?"

"She was my best friend in fifth grade." I looked up into his skeptical face and gave his hand a few pats so he'd let me go. He lingered, sliding his hold down to my hand instead as I slipped toward our security detail.

"Excuse me," I called out to them and they parted to let us past, in the same moment Amelia launched herself toward me in a laughing hug. I still couldn't shake Stellan's ironclad grip so I awkwardly hugged her back with a single arm.

"I can't believe you're here!" She laughed, hugging me again and then pulled back to look at me.

"Neither can I," Stellan drawled and this odd mix of exasperation and apprehension spiked in my chest. She couldn't be a spy? Could she?

"Amelia this is," I turned toward him and she cut over me gushing,

"Stellan Korolov, your husband. I have been following everything online. I can't believe it. It's like some kind of fairy tale or something."

"Or something," I echoed back, a bit stunned that despite so much time passing she was still the same speed talker I'd had to leave behind, like all my other best friends.

"Oh god," her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth as she turned bright red. "I'm so insensitive. Oh god, forgive me. I'm so sorry about your mum. She was always so warm and funny. Such a horrible tragedy. My mum and I were just remembering the other day how kind you both were to us when we got to the states. How she used to call us yin and yang."

"Right," I gave her a quick nod and looked around us to see that everyone was rubbernecking as hard as they could as they passed our circle of security. "An English American girl and an American English girl."

Amelia let out a bright laugh, her cheeks still a little flushed, glancing behind herself to wave toward her friends. They were filming every second of this on their phones, not even waving back. The crowd behind them was growing, the flashes like strobing Christmas lights. I blinked back toward Amelia,

"Why are you here?"

"Visiting family, of course," she smiled, "only until the New Year and then back for senior year."

"School, right," I forced a smile, this bubble of unease slowly expanding in my chest. I squeezed Stellan's hand to try and force it back down.

"Why in the world are you here? Shouldn't you be at something far more glamorous?"

I let out a laugh because I knew I was supposed to, but it was mirthless. Luckily Amelia was still so shocked she didn't notice. She leaned forward, putting a hand on my shoulder as she laughed back. I was flooded with memories of glitter pens and stickers, friendship bracelets in neon colors and glossy magazines, jump dancing on her bed and eating dinner at her family's table because my mom was out again. Of her whispered promises that she'd ring up Charlie for me the next time she was in London.

"Date night," Stellan supplied with one of his dazzling Circle smiles and bumped my hip, trying to shake me out of it. I smiled blankly back up at him and nodded,

"We have plenty of glamorous things to do tomorrow."

Amelia absolutely beamed at us, her eyes going a little glassy and I braced myself for another flying hug. But instead, she moved closer to me, giving my jacket covered arm a squeeze and lowly said,

"I'm so happy for you. I'm so glad you've found happiness. I was worried that I'd done something to offend you when you left and never wrote me back. But now I can see it was because you've had such a difficult life."

"But I wrote to you." I countered, confused. "At least twenty letters. I waited and waited for you."

"Did you?" Her happy smile quirked into a frown, "That's so strange. I sent them to the PO Box your mom left, but there was no response. Not even a return to sender."

"Ma'am," one of the security team leaned toward us and nodded toward the massive crowd ever growing around the rink.

"Oh my," Amelia exclaimed, glancing back nervously at her friends, who continued to film despite being pushed into the fence now.

"We have to go," I told her and managed to shake Stellan's hand to give her a proper hug. "I'm glad we ran into each other."

"Me too, Avery. You're more than welcome to join us for Christmas dinner if you'd like. I can give you my information." She hugged me tight and then stepped back, pulling out her phone. The security team moved in again toward me, nervous of the movement, and I threw my hands up toward her so she wouldn't move again. I wasn't sure what might happen to her, everyone was so jumpy despite this all being a very normal situation.

"Leave it with them, we really should go."

"Nice to meet you," Stellan offered his hand which she cupped with both her hands, shaking it vigorously. He gave her a genuine smile and then wrapped his arm around my waist to pull me away.

As we skated back toward Jack and Elodie I glanced over my shoulder to see her gushing to her friends, who were still filming me and forced a small smile. Our security cleared a path for us to exit, barking orders and guiding us toward a bench so we could rip our skates off as fast as possible. The flashes and the noise of it all were claustrophobic and I could feel my breaths uptick in my chest as I tried to block it out. Jack and Elodie were asking me all kinds of questions, but it was buzzing out in my ears. I shoved my boots back on, zipping them as I stood, moving toward the exit flanked by earpieces on either side and a flutter of fingers at my lower back.

That uneasy bubble that had formed on the ice started to rise in my chest as I slid into the car and waited for the three of them to settle with me. As soon as the door slammed shut my ears started ringing from the abrupt difference of chaos to silence. Elodie started first in mean sounding French, that Stellan cracked back at, Jack cutting over them both to try and keep the peace and it all crescendoed inside me. The panic was at my throat, my tinnitus ramped up to a high pitched beep, and my mind was absolutely swimming with all kinds of murky links finally falling into place.

"Everyone shut the fuck up," I yelled at them and clenched my eyes shut as I pushed my palms into my ears until all I could hear was the beep. Their muffled fight stopped and as I took a few calming breaths the buzz finally relented and I dropped my hands and looked at their worried faces.

"You should give me your jacket so I can check for bugs." Jack held out his hand.

"Don't be ridiculous." I scowled at him. Stellan and Elodie simultaneously took a breath, ready to back him. "I had a life before I met you three. Not every person I meet is trying to kill me."

"It is too much of a coincidence." Elodie shook her head, eyeing the jacket suspiciously.

"That's exactly what Lydia did to you at…" Jack added and I threw up my palm in his face, making him stop cold. I unzipped my jacket, shrugging out of it as I rolled down the window, the freezing wind making everyone flinch, then tossed it out onto the passing London streets. As the window rolled back up I rose an eyebrow at Elodie and Jack, they both looked away. One issue down.

"Right," I let out a huff. "Force her to eat."

I felt three sets of eyes regard me warily before Stellan cautiously asked, "come again?"

"Force. Lydia. To. Eat." I enunciated, aggravated I had to bring it back up. Not even a half hour ago Stellan was ready to get into a fist fight about this. The mood of the car shifted instantly and all attention turned to Jack.

"We're done interrogating her," he rubbed at his tattoo over his jacket, "she has nothing left to say. She's trying to starve herself to death so she can die on her own terms. There is talk of letting her do it."

"Absolutely not," I immediately snapped. All three of their eyes widened in surprise.

"Why?" Stellan was the first to ask.

I darted my eyes to each of them, wondering if it really wasn't that obvious. Apparently not. This strange mix of exasperation and sadness filled me because I couldn't help but wonder if they were all holding onto what they'd been trained to do - protect Family. She wasn't Cole, she was worse. Cole's rogue attack at the Paris Fashion Show had been shocking and sloppy. All of Lydia's hits had been meticulously planned.

"Not a single person that she ordered to be killed got to decide how and when they died. She doesn't deserve that courtesy. She knows what's coming for her."

They bowed their heads, looking down at their shoes and this weariness pulsed through me. They were going to let her starve to death. Of course they were. They didn't have the blood of all her victims on their hands - only I did. I'd forever have a shadow of death around me because of what Lydia Saxon had ordered her minions to do to the Circle. At least now we could be sure she couldn't do it to anyone else ever again.

"Okay," Elodie was the first to look up. "How are you going to do it?"

"Me?" I looked directly into her waiting eyes, and then the four of us grabbed onto our seats as the car took a corner a bit too fast.

"It has to be you," she frowned. "You promised the Circle that. If you back out now it weakens your threat and our Family."

I clenched the leather of the seat in my hands again. That felt so long ago now. I couldn't even access the rage I felt when the words had come steaming out of my mouth back then. But she was right. All we were ever doing was trying to prove to the Circle how powerful and worthy we were, and the only way to make power is to take it. I'd have to do this.

"Fine," I exhaled. "Let's do it tomorrow. Let the Circle know now so if anyone wants to fly in and witness it first hand they can."

Stellan's mouth dropped open in shock but it was Jack that squared off against me and lowly ordered,

"Absolutely not. That's completely uncalled for."

"I've seen your basement execution room," I cracked back. Jack's pressed his lips together, color flushing his cheeks. "And I'm almost positive the Circle has no problem killing sociopaths."

"And handing out popcorn to this isn't something a sociopath would do?" He gave me a warning look, the color flooding down his neck as well.

"She killed every male heir of the Emir Family. You're trying to tell me Samara isn't going to want to make sure she's dead with her own eyes?"

"Starving to death is a horrible way to die." He fired back.

"Then killing her would be the merciful thing to do," I seethed at him, Elodie's mouth dropped open in my peripheral.

"Why the bloody audience then?"

"To prove I'm someone that keeps their word and is lethal to people that try to hurt her family. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate me being so unnecessarily brutal about that."

Jack's eyes widened at me and shifted to the still silent Stellan before darting off to Elodie, his angry flush quickly draining from his face. Stellan shifted uncomfortably next to me and the percolating bubble of worry popped in my chest.

"What?"

"Nothing," Jack immediately answered, sucking in a deep breath.

"You think I don't notice the three of you are keeping things from me?" I glared at them all. "Why would an old friend approaching me be threat level red to everyone? Why did I not know that Lydia was this close to death? You keep scheduling all these bullshit PR Saxon stunts when I know you're taking Order meetings. And the fucking French!"

"Avery," Stellan put a hand on my knee and I smacked it away.

"You do it to me too! I need to know what the hell is going on. If you want me to execute my sister tomorrow then at least give me the respect I've earned."

Silence. This crushing silence that should have made me feel vindicated, but instead made my stomach churn with worry. Just how much had they been keeping from me? Would they even tell me the whole truth now? I waited.

"Where should we start?" Elodie leaned back in her seat, getting comfortable and I turned to Jack and Stellan.

"The Saxons," Jack nodded and rubbed his hands over his face, taking a deep breath.

* * *

"_You don't believe her, do you?" Stellan didn't drop his gun._

_I didn't. But…"They don't have our blood. And they're still-" I cut off. _They're still my family, I finished in my head. _It sounded crazy, after everything, but it was true. "Please don't," I said out loud._

_Jack reached around me and grabbed Stellan's wrist. "Kill them, and the guards will kill you."_

"_Please," I begged._

_Stellan's jaw clenched, but he finally dropped his arm. And then the three of us, plus Luc, were running. I looked back to see Lydia watching us silently. We held each other's eyes for a few seconds, and then the dark swallowed her.**_

A car door slammed, the sound making me jerk into awareness and I took a sharp breath of stinging, frigid air. Faint voices I didn't recognize slowly faded into the quiet stillness of the grounds. I glanced over my shoulder toward the dining room doors, seeing the tall shadow of Stellan watching me behind them. I turned away, making my feet continue on the path I'd worn around the fountain. Everything around me was dying. The trees were bare as far as my eyes could see, the grass steps down toward the grounds were this brownish color that made the final patches of green look off-putting. The huge fountain I had been walking endless circles around since this morning had been dry since the first cold snap. None of this was helping my shaky mental state, but it was better than having the three of them eyeing me like I was some ticking time bomb. I could only watch Stellan swallow back down whatever he wanted to say so many times before I was going to snap at him.

The wind howled through the trees, making my hair whip around my head, filling my mind with white noise, like the ocean. I could almost feel the slap of the waves as I'd been scrubbing all the blood off me, my gold dress weighing me down as it took on the salty water. Finally, the wind stopped and I shrugged deeper into my wool coat, stomping my boots in the gravel before making myself walk down the crunchy grass steps instead. Away from his watching eyes. Away from what I knew was waiting for me.

I'd been picking over every single smile, word, text, gesture I remembered about Lydia. Wondering how I couldn't have seen the evil underneath it all. Then in the next breath knowing it was because she'd wanted it that way. Because in her own warped mind everything she'd done was justified. That's the problem with sociopaths - they never think they're wrong. But where was that line drawn between good and evil? Stellan was the best person I knew, but even he had killed innocent people. What was the difference between him and Lydia? Perhaps it all boiled down to intent. Every kill Stellan had on his list was either out of defense or command because he had to stay alive to keep his sister alive. But every single hit Lydia had orchestrated had been for power. She equated this power to keeping her family safe. It was a completely misguided way of looking at it, but how was that any different then what I was about to do? I growled in frustration and moved further out into the grounds, hanging a right toward the race car track.

It was down the embankment a bit and hiding behind a crop of willow trees, but you could still see the perfectly manicured dirt, even from where I stood. A flash of Cole's sneer crossed my vision and I blinked it away. I'd been completely unsuccessful in accessing that rage I'd felt in Egypt when I'd killed Cole. I knew it was different, on so many fronts, but I should have been able to coalesce it for her.

At every event, she'd smiled and laughed and made cavalier comments about Circle heirs being 'hot' or 'nice' or how I'd 'like this one'. All the while knowing she'd already signed their death certificate. She'd murdered the son of one of her Family's biggest allies. She'd signed off on Fitz's death. She'd ordered my mother to be tortured. She'd blackmailed Eli Abraham into doing her dirty work and then killing himself - on international television. Each alone was enough, but I just couldn't boil it up to the surface. All I felt was...sad. In the end, it was her warped idea of family that killed her.

"_Kuklachka_," Stellan called out. I looked over my shoulder, surprised to see he'd managed to sneak up on me. "It's time."

I turned back toward the race track and nodded, hearing him crunch the grass under his boots, and then felt the weight of my gun as he slipped it into the pocket of my jacket.

* * *

I barely heard the list of crimes being read off in front of me, all I could focus on was Lydia's bowed head. She was too thin, her usually envious olive skin pale and bruised. She swayed a little on her knees. As she exhaled all the bones on the back of her neck seemed to pop out even more. It made my stomach turn. Roberts turned the page,

"For acts of terrorism including aiding and abetting the known terrorist Cole Saxon, bombings in Saudi Arabia and France. Chemical warfare in France. Assassinations in America, France, India, Italy, and England. For ordering the deaths of the following..."

Roberts' voice fuzzed out again as the crowd behind me started to stir. They had been absolutely silent before this. Lined in two rows against the far wall of the interrogation room of the basement facing the kneeling Lydia. This was the part I knew they wouldn't be able to stomach. It was so just many names. I'd actually stopped reading when I'd checked the proof this morning. The majority of the group were already going to be in London for our summit at the end of the week. Unsurprisingly they were mostly women with their fathers: Samarah Emir, Michiyo Mikado, Diya Rajesh. But there were other women who I knew to be heirs now based on my decree - Zara Konings with her brother Declan, and a tall, steely faced woman I could only assume was Valentina Martín. Unfortunately, it was Hugo Dauphin that had shown up and not Luc, with George Frederick rounding out the 11th of the 12 chairs that had been provided. It wasn't lost on me, even at this moment, the significance of who hadn't made it. I knew there would be some long-winded speculation later on tonight - if I made it through this without cracking.

"For all these crimes we sentence you to death," Roberts stopped and the air seemed to suck from the room in the absolute silence that followed. Lydia's shoulders shook a little. "Long live the 13th Family."

There were low echoes of his awful proclamation from the crowd I tried to block out. Instead, I watched as Lydia exhaled again, her body sagging closer to the floor, her hands zip-tied in her lap, fingernails broken and filthy. She was in a pair of clean, gray, scrubs I'd been told she'd be buried in, her grave already dug out in the grounds. Next to her brother. My hands started to shake and I clenched them into fists as I summoned the nerve to do this.

Whenever there had been a spare moment I'd been running the order of how this was all going to play out in my head. As if memorizing it would somehow make it easier. I went through it again as I tried to gain control of the shaking. _Circle arrives. Check. Roberts reads her crimes. Check. I ask her for her final words._ I clenched my fists again. I didn't know if I could do this. The room was still absolutely silent behind me. And then I felt a gust of air and a wall of heat behind me. I leaned into Stellan, he pushed back just the tiniest bit and the resolve finally filled me. I could do this if he was here. I exhaled and reached into my pocket.

The cold steel of my gun brushed against my fingers before I forced my palm around the handle and slowly pulled it out. I could hear the crowd behind me now, barely whispered things and hard exhales. Stellan leaned just a little bit closer to me and I focused on the heat and the small flicker of pain in my scar instead of the white walls and the drain on the floor between Lydia's knees. I clicked the safety off my gun,

"Any last words?" I flatly asked. She looked up at me then. Broken. We had broken her. No...I had done this. I had broken her. My stomach flipped, I gripped the gun tighter.

"I did this for my family," she hoarsely started, coughed dryly and then continued. "I did this for my father. One day you'll do the same. And when you do - I want you to remember my face. Right now. In this moment."

I could tell there was some rustling, mummers, shifting of seats behind me, but everything was starting to buzz out again. The room was going fuzzy around the edges. I was starting to hear my own heartbeat in my ears. Lydia locked eyes with me, my eyes...but brown. I wanted to throw up. I didn't even acknowledge what she'd said with a nod. I just spread my feet, squared my shoulders and quickly leveled my gun right between her eyes, inches from her skin. _Make sure you're positioned right. Check._

She sighed, closing her eyes, a flash of relief filling her features. Relief from this nightmarish hell I'd put her through. I took a breath, waiting for someone to tell me no. Waiting for some kind of surprise or attack or outburst to thwart our plan. But it wasn't going to happen. This wasn't a game anymore. We'd won. And now I'd have to prove it. I focused on the small speck of dirt right at the edge of her hairline while I kept the nozzle of the gun in place and pulled.

My tinnitus buzzed in my ears first, high pitched and intense. The speck of dirt I'd focused on slowly slid out of my vision and all I could see was red splatter on the white wall. My gun flopped to my side and I bit my tongue to stem the swell of vomit that was gurgling right at the edge of my throat. I turned away from the body and toward the stairs. I had to get out of here.

Small surges of sound were breaking through the tinnitus and I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I snapped my head to the crowd, watching as they all seemed to flinch in slow motion. Hugo Dauphin's scowl slowly morphed into an arched eyebrow of intrigue. I forced myself to glare back at him and then blinked and suddenly everyone's hands were at their foreheads, bowing to me, their lips moving but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I didn't need to. I knew what it was.

I ignored them, quickly moving up the stairs, feeling the presence of Stellan a half step behind me. The further I got the faster everything seemed to be moving. The wallpaper blurred as I stormed past, the lights in the hallway streaked and burned my eyes. I couldn't feel the doorknob for our private wing as I wrenched it open and then slammed it shut behind me, almost catching Stellan in the process. My arm flared with a spike of pain and I forced my numb hand to vice around it, growling at him,

"Stay here."

I slid into the powder room, forced the door closed with a shoulder and turned the hot water on full blast. The water was steaming within seconds, making the tiny powder room muggy. I gripped the basin with my numb hands, hearing my rings clinking against the porcelain as the last of the tinnitus cleared from my ears. I couldn't look at myself in the mirror, I was afraid of what I'd see. Instead, I thrust my hands under the scalding water, my body barely even registering the pain it should have caused me. Shock. I was in shock. I needed to focus on simple tasks.

I grabbed the small bottle of English lavender soap and poured a glob of it into my palm, furiously scrubbing them and then forcing them back under the heat. It didn't sting. I washed them again. And again. Forcing them through another round when the door finally cracked open behind me.

My fingers slipped, my diamond sliced through the now soft skin on the top of my hand. Blood blossomed along the cut and I thrust it under the water, sucking in a breath through my teeth as it finally stung. He moved a few more steps to stand behind me and then leaned forward to turn the tap off. The mirror was hazy with steam, the counter covered in water, the ridiculously expensive soap almost empty. I put my hands on the basin and looked down at the still bleeding cut, the waterlogged pads of my fingers, my bright red hands.

"I have the magic skin, remember?" He gently said. I bowed my head, sucking in a shaky, damp feeling breath. "You did the right thing, Avery."

"I know," I croaked.

"She was evil. She would have never stopped. She would have kept coming after us," he continued.

"I know."

He grabbed the hand towel next to me and pressed it onto the top of my hand along the cut, "you've protected us all."

I nodded again, sniffled, straightened, grabbed the hand towel from him and pressed it as hard as I could into my cut. Finally, I looked up in the mirror at him, the two of us veiled with steam and swallowed hard.

"But what if she was right?"

He clenched his jaw.

_Exactly. Exactly…_

* * *

**Map of Fates, by Maggie Hall - pg. 295


	26. Chapter 25

_Buzz._

_Buzz._

_Buzz._

I blinked hard twice, trying to rehydrate my contacts. I'd been staring too long again. I realized I had a fork in my fingers and looked down at yet another meal I'd failed to eat. A late lunch this time. Meatloaf and potatoes, a well-meaning attempt at American nostalgia to coax me. The heavy metal clinked against the china as I gave up and pushed the plate away. We were supposed to be at another obnoxious holiday gala tonight, even though it was the first week of December. Stellan had vetoed it. His rationalization was that it was better to create intrigue than worry. No one fought him.

_Buzz._

My phone lit up on the table next to me and I eyed it cautiously before unlocking it. Stellan.

_You're lucky you're home._

_This is awful._

_What do you think about this one?_

And it was followed with a picture of a Bulldog on a skateboard.

Tears flooded my eyes, blinding me. I squeezed them closed, causing a steady stream

to drip down my face and off my chin. They plunked down onto my phone. Burying my face in the palms of my hands I tried to scoop back up all the pieces I kept splintering into. Forcing a deep breath in I wiped my cheeks and then shook the tears off my hands. Sniffling I picked my phone back up, dried it off and tried to think of something funny to reply back with. But as the seconds kept ticking by all I could come up with was no.

I frowned at my phone, wracking my brain for something to add. All I could think of was that they tended to die early because all the inbreeding had given them health issues. But that was way too dark. They snored. I flexed my stiff fingers to type it when his bubbled popped up again.

_How about this guy?_

It was a white and light brown Whippet in full sprint across an open field. It seemed like the kind of dog you'd have for a day. Because the first time it saw freedom it was going to bolt. None of us would have time to take care of a dog that high strung, and I couldn't take another loss like that. I knew I had to come up with something more than just no this time. He was trying. He'd been trying. For days. But I just felt lost, and trying took so much effort.

_No._

_So no slow or fast dogs. Got it._

_Sorry._

_I'll be home soon lyubov' moya._

I locked the phone and shoved it across the table far away from me, making it clatter into the dishes. Then the door to the dining room opened and I knew who it was. Elodie. She slid across the table from me and sat there in silence for a good minute before I looked over at her. Part of her lip was pulled into her mouth somehow making the dark mauve color of it look even more alluring, exotic. She surveyed me for another minute in silence before I exhaled,

"Yes, Elodie?"

She stood, walked over to the bar, plucked a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses from behind the counter and set them on the table. Then she opened the credenza and pulled out a stack of salad plates, then a stack of saucers. She contemplated the dinner plates but then shook her head setting the two dozen pieces of china on the table next to the vodka. She went to a cabinet over and pulled out a white tablecloth and then spread it wide across the table before placing all her items inside and tying up opposite corners with tight knots. It looked like that satchel on the end of the stick you saw on covers of Huck Finn.

"Are we running away?" I asked. She smiled,

"Sort of."

Then she grabbed the satchel and moved toward the door that led outside to the grounds. She held the door open for me and I crossed my arms over my chest and settled back into my chair.

"Let's go," she tilted her head toward the outside. I had to admit my interest was peaked. She'd managed to get through the fog better than anyone had in days with this bizarre behavior. But there was no way I was leaving. I frowned at her.

"You come willingly or I'll make you go. And you won't like my methods."

"Hard pass," I ground out.

"I'll ask nicely one more time because you look so miserable. It's very ugly on you by the way."

"Charming as always," I sighed.

"Right," she shifted the satchel in her hand and dug into her pocket to produce a small vial. "I hope I didn't make this too potent."

She took a few steps toward me and I stood up and stormed past her out into the freezing grounds. I wasn't in the mood to deal with Elodie, but I had even less of a capacity to fight her off. She covered the space I'd created pretty quickly and crunched ahead of me out to the main path.

The estate garden was surrounded by ornate wire fencing separating the vegetables from the herbs. Most of it was bare ground now from the cold snap we'd had. I wondered how much of this garden just rotted away. We rarely ate in this house. I hoped someone was getting good use of all this. We cleared the garden and crunched through the gravel of the path that lead toward the hedge maze. I stopped. I was not about to get lost in that thing with Elodie armed with china. For all I knew she wanted to re-enact the Shining and use plates instead of a chainsaw. As if hearing my thoughts she called back to me,

"Not the maze. Keep following me."

We passed the garage, all the cars shining and a few of the drivers nodding toward us as we passed, lounging on the metal bistro set they sat in when waiting to be called up. I had no idea where she was going. I knew there was a lot of this place I still hadn't seen. Like where all the bodies were buried. My hands started to shake again and I purposefully and forcefully shoved the look on Lydia's face deep into my chest, covering her with a layer of darkness I hoped would keep her hidden for a little longer. She could torment my dreams later, I wanted at least a couple hours of sanity while I was awake. Elodie pushed back some overgrown brush and we emerged on the other side to a huge open field and some kind of contraption next to another black metal bistro set with table. Elodie set the satchel on the ground, undoing all her knots and shook out her hands. It had to have hurt, that was not a light little picnic she was carrying.

The days were so much shorter now and as she set up the bottle and shot glasses onto the table and fiddled with the contraption next to it I looked out across the field in admiration. It was like something out of a Jane Austen novel. An endless sea of billowing grass, tall cypress trees at the property line in the distance and the occasional grouping of brown bushes. You could only hear the wind as it rustled the nature around us. A wave of peace flowed through me and I admired the bright blue of the sky slowly starting to darken the higher you looked. My exhale of wonder broke as a white cloud in the chill. It would be dark soon. I was glad for the oversized wool sweater I had on, but I knew we'd both be frozen before this was over. I was awash in appreciation for Elodie bringing me here, for forcing me to observe the beauty around me instead of the darkness in my own head. Then there was a woosh and a burst of echoing gunfire followed immediately by the shattering of glass.

I threw my hands over my head and ducked into the grass at my feet letting out a muffled scream of, "what the fuck?"

"_Magnifique!_" Elodie yelled out into the field and then walked over to the table and poured herself a shot. Setting her glass back down she looked over at me, still huddled in the grass and smirked,

"Your turn."

She reached behind her back and pulled out another gun. My gun. My mouth went dry. My hands started to shake. I forced myself to my feet and started to back up, shaking my head and fighting back the tears of anger and the panicked breaths building in my chest.

"What the fuck are you playing at?" I seethed at her. Without even acknowledging my obvious discomfort she set my gun down and then reached to her stack and loaded a plate into the contraption next to the table.

"When you're in Keeper school," she started as she adjusted the plate. "Or in my case secret Keeper school." She pulled back on some lever and then flipped a latch, nodding at her work. "They teach you a mantra to help get you through all the murder and mayhem so you don't lose your mind."

I stopped backing up, watching her carefully, the wind whipped through our quiet field making both our hair blow across our faces. She pulled her own gun back out from its holster and examined the clip before shoving it back into place. Her eyes met mine from across the divide and I gave her a small nod giving in.

"Drink it, punch it or fuck it." She flipped the lever on the contraption only a second before her gun was aimed at the salad plate spinning up into the air like a reflective frisbee. An incredibly expensive reflective frisbee. Right as it hit the apex of its arc Elodie squeezed off a shot and the plate exploded into a thousand pieces in the sky, raining back down onto the field as the gunfire dissipated out across the property. Nodding, satisfied at her hit, she moved back over to the table and took another shot of vodka.

"I'll let you put together which ones Stellan and Jack use," she said with a grimace as the vodka burned her. "But personally I always preferred punch it...well...shoot it." She reached down and grabbed another plate, loading it into place and held out my gun again. "Let's figure out which one is yours."

It was too much. Too soon. It had only been two days, three hours and seventeen minutes since I'd executed my sister in front of a room full of people. With the very gun that Elodie was patiently holding out toward me. I couldn't tear my eyes away from it, or the consistent wave of nausea and horror that filled me as my reality slipped away and I was once again materializing in the basement as…

"Avery," Elodie gently said. I blinked a few times, the call of a bird overhead mixing with the wind through the grass around us, and it began fading. I lifted my gaze to hers expecting to see the hard, annoyed, disappointed face Elodie always wore around me. But it wasn't there. Instead, I saw the girl who'd sobbed into Jack's shoulder, who had chain-smoked on Collette's balcony, who had struggled to keep up with us in Valencia as she muddled through all that had happened in Russia. And in that moment I knew. She got it. More than Stellan or Jack ever could. Her first execution had only been a couple of months ago - not when she was 12. It was a different experience, a different kind of compartmentalization.

The tears poured down my face, but I bit my tongue so I wouldn't let out the audible sob. She nodded, over and over again, continuing to patiently wait for me. It took me a few moments but I reigned it back in and wiped at my face, moving toward her. I was afraid of touching my gun, afraid that if I did I'd seize up and actually lose it. But she closed my hand around it and with a few pats moved over to the contraption and said,

"Tell me when."

I took in a deep breath, my shaking hands unable to aim the gun very well and was instantly flooded with the memory of Stellan and me on the beach in Greece. Stabbing that rack of ribs over and over and over again until it finally didn't repulse me anymore. This was the same thing, wasn't it? I would have to use this gun again. Soon. Over and over again. I had to get past this. I had to learn how to do this to save myself. No - to save my family. To protect them.

I took another breath, my hands still shaking and nodded toward her. With a woosh, the plate went soaring into the air and I squinted at it squeezing off a shot that missed completely. I tried to get it again on its decent but missed, the plate crashing to the ground and slipping into the grass. Elodie moved over to the bottle and poured me a shot.

"Typically you only take a shot when you hit it. The point being focusing aim during inebriation of any kind. But today I think you should just drink no matter what." She handed me the shot and I threw it back without a moment of hesitation. The vodka burned and sloshed in my empty stomach. As Elodie loaded another plate I felt it warm up my arms and spread across my belly.

"I thought you did this with shotguns and clay pigeons," I nodded toward the machine. Elodie shrugged,

"Isn't this more fun?"

I laughed and was rewarded with a rare, genuine, smile from her. She put her hand on the lever and waited and I rose the gun again, still shaking, and called out,

"Pull."

And it continued like that in mostly companionable silence. Pull. Fire. Miss. Vodka. Reload. Each one my hands shook less. Each one my mind cleared more. Each one I let myself sink into the predictable, comforting rhythm and the building warmth through my body as the vodka took effect. The sun started to sink in the sky, lighting up the field in a glorious golden light that caught on all the pollen in the air. The grass shimmered as the wind blew through it, the heavy scent of heather swirled around us, a flock of birds called down to our antics as they passed. It was magical. I was drunk. And we were about to run out of plates. But I was finally numb enough that everything else had melted away.

"Pull!" I yelled out, following the plate with my gun and squeezing off the shot at the perfect moment. The plate shattered in the sky, tumbling to the ground like falling stars. Elodie and I both shouted in surprise and I bounced toward her, wrapping her in a tight hug that she gave back just as fiercely.

"Now I've seen everything," Stellan drawled behind us and we turned, still hugging each other to look at him. The wind rustled his hair as he grinned at us. I held onto Elodie tighter, leaning my head onto her shoulder as we watched him regarding us. I didn't want to let her go. If I did this blessed reprieve might shatter, and I didn't know if I could recover from a crash like that. Not when I finally felt normal. Not when I'd managed to lose track of the timer in my mind. Elodie slung one of her arms around my hip and let out an indignant sound in her chest,

"Should have known you'd come ruin all our fun."

"He is a fun killer, isn't he?" I laughed and Stellan's eyes raked over me and then the significant dent we'd made in the vodka.

"Gemma sent me to investigate where all her Waterford china disappeared to." He smiled at us. Elodie let out another annoyed grunt at him and stumbled a little as she turned us back toward the machine. That's when I realized we were probably way too drunk to be using firearms. Maybe we were lucky Stellan had shown up.

"One plate left," Elodie called out to us as she reached down to grab it. She loaded it into place and set the leaver. We both pulled out our clips and cursed,

"Empty," Elodie groaned, reholstering.

"Empty," I confirmed setting my own gun down on the table, picking up the next shot, the liquid sloshed a little on my hand and I put it up to my mouth to suck it off as we both looked back at Stellan. The most peculiar look crossed his face, something akin to nostalgia and bewilderment before he shook his head and reached behind his back to pull out his own gun. Elodie didn't even wait for him to adjust. She pulled the lever and the plate shot up into the darkening sky. I almost lost sight of it as it soared toward the stars and then we heard a hit and shatter as it fell back to the ground. I closed the space between us, passing the shot to Stellan as Elodie clapped behind me. Stellan threw the shot back neatly as I heard Elodie rattling the vodka bottle and shot glass behind me. Then I was suddenly covered in the table cloth as she threw it over my head.

I laughed and pulled it down, wrapping it around my shoulders as an oversized scarf. Stellan passed the shot glass over to Elodie and she slammed it down on top of the other one, the clink echoing out into the field in front of us.

"You didn't happen to bring the golf cart did you fun killer?" Elodie smiled up at him. He nodded and we both let out sighs of relief. It would be a pretty brutal walk back with all this vodka sloshing around inside us. Elodie shoved my empty gun into the back pocket of my jeans as Stellan started back toward the path. I was surprised not to feel that wave of nausea come over me that had happened every time I made myself touch the gun over the last couple of days. Elodie tugged on my sheet, holding me back from following Stellan for a few beats and then leaned toward me to whisper,

"You'll have to tell me tomorrow which one worked."

I looked over at her, the world spinning a bit and scrunched my eyebrows in confusion. But then it drudged up from my muddled thoughts. Punch it, drink it or fuck it. A sly smile pulled across my face as we both looked toward Stellan holding back the brush for us, annoyed to be waiting. I let out an appreciative hum back to her and then whispered,

"Tempting. But I think I take after you."

"Good answer," she laughed and leaned her head onto my shoulder before we stumbled through the grass toward our waiting golf cart chariot.


	27. Chapter 26

I stifled a yawn behind my hand, watching with rapt attention as Stellan angrily put on his boots. He slammed them onto the ground in front of himself, ripping the laces and mumbling things in French. My eyes darted to Elodie, hands on her hips, rolling her eyes at his temper tantrum. Glaring at her the entire time he shoved his feet in and yanked on the laces. Luckily, I was still shaking the sleep off as I watched the battle unfold from my spot nestled in the bed. This floor show was an interesting way to wake up, there were few things more tantalizing than a Stellan and Elodie sparring match, but it was all very one-sided. Elodie was operating only in French and Stellan kept weaving in and out of English as they bickered in front of me.

Shoes on, he shot her another dirty look and stormed off toward his closet. He still had bed head. I forced myself to yawn so I didn't laugh. I was pretty sure one of them would attack me if I did.

"One more time," he yelled out from the closet, "explain it to me."

Elodie's face scrunched in frustration, but she took a deep, settling, breath, and started in French again. I sat up in bed, pulling the covers with me and punching at the pillows to get more comfortable as Stellan stormed back out into our room.

"And why does it have to be me exactly?" He snarled.

"Avery," Elodie turned to me, raising an eyebrow, "how good is _your_ Russian?"

Stellan clenched his fists and I froze for a moment. There was no need to drag me into this, that was half the fun of watching them fight - being a spectator. I shrugged, "_dovol'no plokho_."

Elodie nodded, smiling smugly at Stellan as she turned back to face him. "See?"

"You know what you're making me miss for this." He snapped snatching his phone up off the nightstand and shoving it into his pocket.

"Well, don't fuck it up and maybe you can be back in time," Elodie demurely answered. I couldn't stop the single laugh that bubbled up on that one.

Turning it into a cough I tried to hide it by grabbing the nearby water glass, but I could feel their eyes on me.

"Ma'am?" Gemma called out from the doorjamb and we all turned to see her holding a tray of breakfast with the dreaded lists of doom perched on the side. "Shall I delay our meeting?"

"Nope," I answered jumping out of bed and bee-lining it for the closet. I didn't get to see them leave but I heard Stellan sharply call out to Elodie,

"Quicker!"

_Jesus_, maybe my Saxon debrief, Leap Year Ball planning and three hour Circle Women's summit wouldn't be such a bad alternative today. Though, it would have been entertaining to figure out which one of them was going to crack first this morning.

* * *

"Enough, we have wasted far too much time on new procedures for the book of names," Valentina Martín ordered with a large sigh. It was met with quite a few narrowed eyes but the group took a moment to reset. I looked down at my phone hoping it would have something that would excuse me from this torture. I was instantly relieved:

_St. Lucia's - Anya's Christmas Pageant_

When I'd concocted this _brilliant_ plan a few months ago it had been met with some hesitation from Elodie. She hadn't explained why, but I was steadfast in my resolve. We had already made progress with the arranged marriage decree and Stellan had been working tirelessly on the transition away from Keepers. This final decree to the Circle was my tentpole and I was not about to back down from something so historically important to the world. We had to keep momentum on this front. Even if everyone outside the Circle would never really be able to tell the difference. Ensuring equal power for the female heads of the Families was going to turn the tide for us in the long run, we needed this to succeed. I'd relentlessly been brushing up on all things Circle in preparation as well as getting crash courses in world economics and peacekeeping strategies.

It hadn't even taken fifteen minutes before I'd realized why Elodie had given me that skeptical look - everything they were talking about was so nuanced and particular to their shared history none of what I'd learned mattered. I let out a breath from my nose so you couldn't tell how exhausted I was. I would have taken running through the streets of Ibiza again before having to try and keep track of this. It had been about thirty minutes of actual progress, two hours of humble brags designed to vie for my approval on things, which only left this final half-hour to drag each other. It was almost pitch black in here from the amount of shade they'd been throwing.

"We need to continue the discussion on Keepers," Samarah Amir offered up, shifting in her padded wingback chair. Everyone but Zara Konings heads started to nod, she gave Samarah a confused look,

"What more is there to say? I thought the decree was pretty clear."

"Perhaps for your Family," Samarah replied with a tight smile. "But mine is dead, Michiyo's is her husband now and Diya and Valentina's belong to their brothers. It would be unwise to transfer them when the whole point of a Keeper is to form a confidential bond."

"Is that what we're calling it now?" Valentina drawled, raising an eyebrow at Samarah. She glared back in response.

"Why would that exclude me exactly?" Zara barreled right over Valentina's barb. "Declan has no intention of transferring Peter to me."

"I think you've all missed the point of the decree. There isn't a need for Keepers anymore." Michiyo huffed, rubbing at the top of her very swollen belly.

"How so?" Samarah wondered folding her hands in her lap.

"A Keeper of the Key's main purpose was to ensure the heir lived so they could eventually both transition into ruling the Family." Michiyo shifted uncomfortably, sitting up from her reclined position on the couch. "We're not fighting each other for power anymore, we're serving the 13th Family. The focus should be shifted to how your marriage will better your territory."

"You're saying we don't need Keepers at all?" Samarah widened her eyes at her.

"She's saying you shouldn't be arguing about hiring a spy for your Family in front of your Queen," Valentina nodded toward me with a smirk.

"How dare you," Samarah's cheeks turned bright red against the pale white of her hijab. "My loyalty lies solely with the 13th Family. Who do you think got them out of Egypt?"

"If you're that worried about security Samarah, why don't you hire someone outside your territory? Recruit from MI6 or the Mossad." Zara tacked on. Samarah gave her a withering look in return.

"I have a question," Diya Rejesh's voice rose above the crowd. "Why isn't Luc Dauphin here?"

"Because this is a woman's summit," Michiyo replied giving her a peculiar look.

"But everything you four have been arguing about for the past hour pertains to him as well. He has to replace his Keeper and now he doesn't have to marry one of us," Diya expanded, glancing at Zara seated next to her on the overstuffed couch.

The room went instantly silent for a beat as Diya started to fidget nervously. All eyes shifted to me and I tried to remain neutral. Had she said something bad? Offensive? Was I supposed to yell at her? I'd just been falling back on Elodie's first rule of Circle domination this whole summit - keep your mouth shut and they'll hang themselves.

"Apologies...I didn't mean to imply that Stellan...I mean His Majesty was…" Diya fell over herself and I raised a hand to stop her. The power of the room shifted to me again and I tried to settle with the feeling. It was quite unnerving to see all these women, much older than me, waiting to hang on my every word. I wasn't quite sure what to do with that, but I at least knew the answer to her question.

"I did invite him. But Hugo Dauphin interpreted the title of this summit to exclude his son. Allegedly."

"Of course he did," Samarah grumbled. "What about you Valentina?"

"Oh, I'm taking Fernando for myself." Valentia reached her hand out to play with the crystals on the bottom of the lampshade next to her. "His talents are completely wasted on keeping Mateo alive."

"Oh my," Michiyo gasped. Everyone brustled at her callousness. Everyone but Samarah.

"I was asking about the marriage," she clarified.

"That's so impolite Samarah!" Diya hissed at her.

Valentina just shrugged and smiled back sardonically at Samarah. She shook her head while she played with her stack of golden bracelets. I got the distinct feeling these two had been sparring with each other since childhood. My phone buzzed again and I looked down to see I only had five minutes of this torture left before I'd get to excuse myself. I wondered if there would be a catfight once I left.

"It's a valid question," Samarah calmly started, folding her hands in her lap. "How could you produce an heir? How could Luc Dauphin? If the point is to keep the legacy of our family's alive so they can continue to rule their territories under the watch of the 13th Family then there has to be offspring."

"There have been plenty of bastards that took the seat of a rightful heir in a Family over the years Samarah. Why would this be any different?" Valentina darkly warned.

"Indeed," Michiyo glared at her.

"Besides," Zara cut over the tension, "Her Majesty's heir is the only one that matters."

All eyes turned to me again and I forced myself to give a small smile, but this spike of panic filled my chest. I knew I had to say something, anything, this was a moment to make an indication of how I was leaning on this topic. But my mind blanked out as I looked anywhere but at Michyo's swollen belly.

"Pardon," Jack's voice cut into the room and I held my breath so I wouldn't let it woosh out of me with relief. "Sorry to interrupt but I'm here to ensure we don't get caught in traffic."

"Excuse me," I rose, my stomach bubbling with unease as everyone rose after me, even Michiyo.

"Your Majesty," they all bowed with their hands to their foreheads. I just stared, unsure what to do exactly, making a mental note to talk to Elodie about this because it was just too weird. They all raised their heads smiling at me.

"Shall we reconvene in a quarter?" Samarah brightly asked, her eager smile matching that on all the other faces. It was jarring. Weren't they bickering this whole time? Why would they want to do this again? I nodded with another forced smile and turned toward Jack, giving him a 'get me out of here' look that he grinned at. He held the door open for me and I let out the breath I'd been holding.

As soon as we were out of earshot, marching down the red-carpeted hallway toward the front of the property, Jack casually asked,

"Should I have Elodie arrange the next summit for you?"

"Could she also arrange some valium for it?" I cracked back.

"For you or for them?" He laughed, holding open the front door for me. Gemma was waiting outside, my two costume changes draped across her arms in their garment bags, my lunch hanging from one of her hands.

"Thank you, Gemma," I smiled kindly at her, taking the lunch. She fell into step behind us, placing the garments in the trunk as Jack held the door to the car open next. I stopped and made eye contact with Jack, answering, "for them."

He nodded, grinning, and then closed the door behind me as I slid in.

* * *

Jack and I shifted in our shoes outside the Saxon Memorial Performing Arts Center at St. Lucia's. Every time I was given an update on the place I'd inwardly scowl about it. I wanted to change the name but that wouldn't help with the public Saxon front. At least we were waiting inside, and not out in the cold. Rushed sets of parents were skittering past us through the open double doors toward the dark theater behind the double doors to our left. I could catch a glimpse of a huge red curtain in front of a sea of quickly filling seats.

Of course, the guest of honor was the last to be seated. Unfortunately, with an empty seat next to me. Just another way for the school to double down on my celebrity for their own advancement. You would have thought that was the thing filling me with gnawing anxiety about all this, but it was my capacity here, in general, that was. I was at a very familiar situation - a school play - but in a very different capacity - parent. Or quasi-parent, I was still trying to feel that out with Anya. It felt wrong to have only Jack here with me. I knew he loved Anya as much as the rest of us, he's sworn to die protecting her, but he wasn't Stellan. That's probably what had made him so moody this morning. I rolled my eyes at the memory and then looked back at the entrance of the venue again.

"Is it that breathtaking?" Jack lowly asked, slightly to my right and behind me. I shrugged. Between the brain fatigue and the barrage of noise from the quickly filling performance hall, I could barely tell what I was looking at. The grand hallway toward the entrance to the play had been decorated in festive colored paper streamers looping along the walls, glittery stars and snowflakes twirling from the ceiling above us, and what appeared to be empty boxes wrapped in Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa colored paper and bows. When you included the butcher block paper meant to look like snow over the entrance and tinsel covering the real tree in the corner they might have spent about $50 on all this. It made me question how all my money was being spent at this place.

"The snow over the doorway reminds me of the Griswold's house," I finally answered back.

"Someone you knew in Minnesota?" He wondered. I looked over my shoulder at him and frowned.

"Really?"

"What?" He crossed his arms over his suit covered chest, his giant watch popping out and glinting in the afternoon light from one of the alcove windows.

"Here I was thinking you were a good spy," I answered looking back down at my program searching for Anya's name.

"I never said I was a spy."

"Just a transfer student," I smiled at him and then noticed a group of giggling girls pretending they weren't looking directly at me as they passed on their way in. I switched to a terse smile and straightened my shoulders. Despite the empty hallway there was always going to be eyes on me. "Wouldn't the names of everyone I knew be on my dossier?"

"There weren't that many. For sure not a Griswold." He took a step closer both of us leaning against the stone of the alcove. It was beautiful, the ancient windows, the soft winter light, the glitter forever stuck on the floor now from all these decorations.

"And didn't you have creepy training on what normal people watched and did?" I looked over my shoulder at him again and couldn't help my smirk at his affronted reaction.

"Creepy?" Jack narrowed his eyes at me, but the smallest little smirk was forming.

"Like having to take notes on boy bands while simultaneously being taught how to strangle someone." I clarified for him. He took a breath as if he was going to say something, but then we both shifted away from each other, like we were the ones back in school, as clacking heels stormed down the hall. Not the headmistress, just another pair of late parents. The father did a double-take at the two of us as they practically sprinted toward the venue.

The hallway empty again Jack leaned toward me, almost touching my shoulder, and asked, "do you mean to say the boy band part is the creepy half of that equation?"

"Yes!" I laughed, nudging his shoulder with my own. I was expecting Jack to keep his usual stoic professionalism, but he leaned in enough so he could lower his voice and said,

"Stab Stellan a couple more times and I'll give you a gold star for hand to hand combat."

"Jack!" I whirled on him, bursting with laughter and grabbing his shoulder as I tried to control myself.

"It's harder than you think it'll be. I would know," he laughed back, a bright smile across his face. I took a deep breath, feeling my whole body relax despite the noise still happening behind us. I squeezed his arm and then heard it. Giggling. Shuffling. Whispers. I snapped my head around to see who was spying on us now, but they were gone. Middle school terrors likely.

I broke up the comfortable silence between us with, "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. It's a movie."

"Ah," he replied. "There's your problem. I was trained on _creepy_ British pop culture."

"The fact that you just admitted that makes it ten times creepier." I giggled to myself, leaning heavier against the alcove so I could take some weight off my lower back. I bet Elodie would stop making me wear all these sky-high heels if I made her massage my back every night. I laughed to myself at that thought.

"Now imagine not knowing a word of French and coming from a barely post-Soviet Russia." He joked and I stopped, putting my pointer finger to my mouth as I contemplated it. I had never really thought of it that way before, but that must have been incredibly hard for Stellan. He continued to surprise me, even in his absence.

I hummed in appreciation, "he's come a long way."

"I've always thought so," Jack replied and from the corner of my eye, I caught a smile spread across his face.

I wanted to ask more about this strange period of time they shared. Before Family's and tattoos and love triangles and all that mess. This time that would have constituted as their shared childhood, even with the language barrier. But they never spoke of it, and there was something inherently sad about that. Even further depressing when you considered I was the only one that technically had a normal childhood, in spite of all the moving.

"I used to watch it with my mother. The movie."

"Family tradition?" He pushed.

I thought back on all the times we had managed to watch _Christmas Vacation_ growing up. My mother had said it was something she'd always done growing up, but with whom and where? I had believed her absolutely, but now I wasn't so sure. I knew so little about her childhood. And now I'd come to realize, after my serendipitous run-in with Amelia, that she'd been orchestrating my own. I couldn't get rid of this nagging thought at the back of my mind ever since that meeting that everything had been a lie.

"I don't know anymore. I feel like I don't know her at all now."

"Because of that girl from the ice skating rink?"

I nodded and then looked down the hall for the headmistress again, Jack shadowing me. "Why would she have done that to me? She knew how lonely I was."

"I'm sure it tore her up inside," he gently replied. I shook my head ready to rebuttal when he pressed on, "she went to great lengths to keep you safe all those years."

"But to deny me friends? Real friends that cared about me? What threat could they have been?"

"Avery," he stepped forward so we were in front of each other now. "Remember what happened the moment I figured out who you really were?"

I did. Everything had changed. He was right.

I got an awful, sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach for thinking ill of my mother. Her quick and hushed tone on my voicemail begging me to stay put floated back up from where I'd been hiding it in my brain, punishing me. I should have never doubted her, alive or dead. She had been protecting me even when I'd outright defied her. I had destroyed everything she'd dedicated her life to with a single decision. I pressed my lips together to try and hold back the swell of tears, then took a deep, shaky, breath. We only had an hour here at St. Lucia's before I had the tree lighting ceremony with the Royal Family and dinner with the Prime Minister of some country I couldn't remember. And of course the Order meeting nightcap. The fatigue welled inside me again and I tried not to sigh. Appearances were everything, and every move I made today was about to be scrutinized by the world I'd always been sheltered from.

"Mrs. Korolov!" The headmistress called out to me as she hurried down the hall. Jack and I instinctively straightened our spines. "We're ready for you now."

* * *

My head jiggling a little is what slowly pulled me from my magnificent nap. Stellan silently laughed again, his body shaking as he quietly answered back something in French. I shifted a little, my neck stiff from falling asleep on his leg, but I refused to open my eyes. I had earned this nap, and it was necessary if everyone wanted me to pay attention to the nightcap we had next. His fingers slowly gathered the hair at the nape of my neck, combing and twisting and generally making me melt further into the couch for a variety of reasons until he said goodbye and hung up.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"Shhhh I'm sleeping," I whispered back.

"Do you always snuggle deeper into my femur when you sleep?" His fingers made another pass and I couldn't stop the little groan of satisfaction. "You're like a cat."

"Last time I checked cats didn't have to stand in six-inch heels to watch a Christmas tree get poorly lit."

He laughed softly, continuing his pets, "so you're a grumpy _kuklachka _tonight?"

"Shhhh," I commanded him and dug deeper into his thigh - on purpose.

"Ah," he shifted, uncomfortable, "I should have known when you just pushed all your food around and refused to make small talk."

"It was gross. They were boring. I am tired." I curtly answered, flipping around so I was facing away from him instead. I shifted until my head was comfy and his hand gently pulled all my tangled hair out so he could continue to run his fingers through it.

"You're really tired, aren't you?" He asked, stopping his fingers and I shrugged. If I told him how drowsy I felt I was pretty sure the universe was going to punish me with the flu. That was how karma worked right?

"You should stay," he answered himself, shifting a bit. I growled for him to stop but then sighed as he covered me with a blanket. Instead, I closed my eyes, mumbling,

"Just let me sleep until we have to leave for the Order meeting."

"We have more to do tomorrow. You're running yourself ragged, you'll catch something…" he started.

"Don't curse me!" I shouted over him. He resumed his petting and I heard his phone unlock above me. I let myself relax again, drifting in and out of sleep until he nudged me,

"I think I found our dog."

I cracked open an eye and let it focus to see the cutest, fluffiest, happiest looking dog I had ever seen in my life.

"Oh my god," I breathed. "What is it?"

"Portuguese Podengo," he flicked to another picture and my heart melted.

"_Otlichno_," I whispered.

"I knew I'd figure it out," he replied, sounding quite proud of himself. I blinked a couple more times, smiling, as I drifted back to sleep.

_SLAM!_

I sat up with a start, heart in my throat, head darting around our dark living room. There was a couch pillow where Stellan used to be and the blanket was tangled around my legs.

"Bloody, fucking hell!" Jack yelled out and my pulse started to pump even harder with worry.

He stormed around the corner, slamming his fist against the wall and illuminating the living room in blinding light. I squinted against it and heard him come to a halt. Cracking open an eye I didn't even have time to adjust as he barked out,

"You're supposed to be on a plane!"

"S...St…" I stuttered, uncomfortable with his angry tone, "Stellan must have left me behind."

"Of course he did," he grumbled, clenching his fists. "What's the excuse this time?"

"Tired. I think I'm getting sick," I hurriedly answered, but this ping of annoyance bounced around in my head. _This time?_ And what could he possibly be so angry about that he felt the need to take it out on me? That wasn't his MO.

"Fine," he shook his head, stalking off toward the bedrooms. I heard him opening and closing two doors and then he stormed back out glaring at the TV as he rubbed at his tattoo over his dress shirt. I sat up, the blanket falling to the ground, hyper-aware of every move he made now. I was afraid to ask, but I forced myself to anyway, even with a shaky voice,

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he snapped and turned around appearing calm, though his eyes were still stormy.

I rose an eyebrow at him, "you sure?"

We stared at each other for a moment and my still sleep hazy mind pieced together all the other times Jack had given me this exact look. In Venice. In Greece. In France. All my nerves washed away and I narrowed my eyes at him. He was about to lie to me.

"It's fine." He forced a nod and took a step toward the front door.

"No," I ordered as I stood and moved into his path. I squared off against him. "Don't lie to me."

He clenched his jaw and looked down at his shoes. I waited. Even when I'd forced the three of them to give me the debrief in the car on the way back from the ice skating rink I knew Jack had still been withholding information from me. It was in his nature and training of course, but with him, I could just tell. I'd made it perfectly clear that I wanted and needed to know what was going on. Even if Stellan wasn't there.

With a deep inhale of breath he finally looked back up at me with a grimace, "there's been a breach in security. I haven't narrowed it down completely yet, but I have to take care of it tonight."

"Elodie and Stellan aren't here. It's just me, Jack. Tell me what it is, I can help you." I crossed my arms over my chest and widened my stance. He sized me up and then closed his eyes, taking a long breath through his nose. When he opened them back up he was settled and determined,

"We have to kill Alistar Saxon. Right now."

I knew I was nodding, but my body felt numb. Maybe I was shaking in agreement or just to shake off the bone-deep exhaustion I was feeling? His skeptical eyes kept watching my unending nodding, growing darker with concern the longer I did it. I didn't ask why instead I hoarsely replied,

"Let's go."

"Avery," he shook his head. "You shouldn't…"

"Make good on my threat to the Circle?" I cut over him.

"It's not safe for you to..." he tried again but dropped off.

No longer feeling the pull to sleep, I unfolded my arms and forced my still numb feet to take a step back from him, toward the door. "Let's finish what we started. You and me."

Shock filtered across his face, his eyes narrowing at me while a single eyebrow rose on his forehead. Somewhere, deep in my soul, I knew it would come down to this. Jack and I. Our destiny's had been interweaving throughout our whole lives because of this one, awful, man. The pain he'd inflicted on both of us, the scars we had to carry for the rest of our lives because of him. He'd thought he'd be able to use us as pawns in his game, but now we'd won. It had to be us.

There was another beat between us as I watched the same resolve slowly alter his features. His face relaxed, his shoulders dropped and straightened, he nodded and then held out his hand to me. I took it, threading our fingers as he finally said, "let's go."

He took a few steps to move in front of me and then we were moving in tandem, our hands still joined, through the living room and out into the hallway. A few security guards darted down the red carpet in front of us, leaving the hidden door wide open as they rushed down the stairs. I took a deep breath and Jack squeezed my hand, tugging me down the steps with him.

We made it to the control room and the door was wide open as well, four people on all the chairs I'd seen empty before, frantically typing and zooming in on cameras. I caught the sight of empty cells and then a group of men in the white room. Jack tugged me again, wrenching the door open and guiding me down those steps as well. My eyes zeroed in on the drain in the floor first and I was flooded with memories of Lydia. Kneeling, tied up and sagging toward the floor. But then two more people rushed past us, excusing themselves as they took off toward the cells around the corner. There was this edge of panic in the air and when we hit the final step he let go, his hands quickly fluttering over all his weapons now clearly visible without his usual jacket and then straightened, morphing into that version of himself I didn't want to see.

"Status," he barked out and strode toward Roberts and two other guards huddled in the white room.

Roberts looked up at him with a grim expression which quirked into surprise at seeing me, "Your Majesty, we have contained the breach and are ready for the execution."

"And who was it?" Jack demanded.

"He's been…" Robert's dropped off as he looked me over again as if gauging how much he should divulge, "taken care of."

He gave me a little bow of his head and a shiver raced down my spine. I forced myself to nod and keep my face neutral.

"Let's move, we've already wasted enough time. Go grab him." Jack commanded to the two guards and then, "Roberts, get those arseholes upstairs in line. They're running around like chickens."

All three of them nodded at me and then took off to their tasks. I tried to breathe through my nose only, worried I might make myself hyperventilate if I opened my mouth, this was all happening so fast, completely opposite of what was done with Lydia. I heard a scuffling and huffs of effort as the guards drug a body with a hood over its head around the corner. They dumped it unceremoniously in front of the two of us, it hit the floor with a thud and one guard ripped off the hood to reveal furious purple eyes.

"Leave," Jack growled at the guards and they took off up the stairs without a glance back. I clenched my jaw as Alistar awkwardly moved onto his knees before us, his hands tied off behind his back. The door at the top of the stairs closed with a thud and there was absolute silence between the three of us.

I was afraid to take my eyes off of Alistar, even if he wasn't looking at me at all. His glare was solely on Jack and even on his knees, it was still threatening to behold. Unlike Lydia, he looked quite well, clean, fed, with a salt and pepper beard that covered his face now. I had no idea what all that meant, and I couldn't think through that at the moment. There was a threat in front of me and it needed to be eliminated. Since neither of them was going to say the first word, I shored up all the wits I had left and flatly demanded,

"Any last words?"

Alistar broke his eye contact to look me up and down once and then shifted on his knees so he was facing both of us. It made Jack take a step closer to me and I folded my hands behind my back so you couldn't see them shake.

He looked up at the camera's and then his whole face morphed into sincerity as he clearly and loudly answered,

"I did this for my family. I did this for my children." Then he turned in my direction on his knees and his face looked pleading even though his eyes were cold, "one day you'll have children Avery, then you'll understand. I'd do anything to protect them, I would have done the same for you."

Jack clenched his fists at his side and spat,

"Bullshit. You gave me execution orders."

My head snapped to my right, eyes popping out on my face, but Jack completely ignored me. He glared at Alistar who was shaking his head. Jack took a step toward him and said, "if her eyes are purple she's worth more to us alive than dead. Isn't that what you told me?"

Alistar stopped shaking his head, going still at the same moment that Jack reached behind his back and pulled out his gun,

"Answer me," he shouted.

"Of course I did," Alistar spat back as the breath wooshed out of my chest.

"You were going to let that fucking sociopath be the head of this Family over the rightful heirs to the Circle?" Jack demanded, flicking the safety off his gun. I struggled to take in a breath.

"Lydia," Alistar snapped. "It was always going to be Lydia running the Family."

"It should have been Oliver."

"I shouldn't have shown you so much mercy."

Jack let out a dark laugh that chilled me. "Is that what that was?"

"You were too close to Oliver. And that Dauphin Keeper." He snarled.

"And look at where we are now." Jack leveled his gun.

"Jack, you don't have to do this," I breathed toward him.

"Listen to your Queen, Keeper."

His words hit wrong in my brain. They came out so scathingly, so haughty, so familiar. I was instantly transported back to Alexandria. Another Saxon, kneeling before our drawn guns, spitting vitriol in our direction. So he was his father's son after all. It had all been an act. His compassion, his concern, his 'plausible deniability'. He never wanted me. He wanted my eyes. I felt woozy and overwhelmed. I looked over at Jack and it all hardened in my stomach as a tight, heavy ball. His finger was already on the trigger and moving.

Before I could say anything they popped off in quick succession. One through Alistar's head, right between his eyes, and the other through his heart. Jack stood perfectly still, glaring at the body as it continued to defy us both, remaining upright. His blank purple eyes staring straight at us, his blood soaking through his clothes, chunks of his brains slowly smearing down the wall behind him. Then he slumped to the left and crumpled to the floor. I turned to my right and threw up all over Jack's shoes.

Slick with sweat and shaking I threw up again, what little was left heaving from me in a painful swell. I felt his palm between my shoulders and that soothing tone he'd always used before,

"It's okay. Avery, it's okay."

"I'm," I started to say and dry heaved again. My head was spinning. How could he be so brutal in one moment and then unendingly kind in the next? My whole body shuddered with a chill, my stomach turning.

He carefully stepped out of his dress shoes, around the bile, and then slid an arm around my waist. I wiped my sleeve across my mouth and did a double-take of horror. My pearl-colored cashmere sweater was covered in a fine mist of blood and gunpowder. I swallowed down the gag, noticing next that my shoes and pants hadn't escaped the vomit either. I gave in and leaned heavily into him as he quickly moved us up the stairs.

The tears built in my already burning throat, choking me. We made it through the security door and he started barking orders at the security staff, most of it fuzzing out in my ears. Just like with Lydia. When we hit the landing at the top of the stairs he turned me toward himself and crouched down in front of me so we were eye level. He took a deep breath and quietly said,

"It's over now."

I nodded and swallowed hard against my burning, raw throat. Then he leaned forward and gently grabbed my face, his eyes so intense all my building panic stilled,

"You are not property. Neither am I. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't," I whispered back. He nodded and then let me go, rushing back down the stairs in his socks and already barking more orders at people. I pushed on the hidden door and stumbled out into the hallway, leaning against the wallpaper trying to breathe. Slowly my body sunk toward my knees and I felt the tears well inside me again.

_Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding dong!_

I blinked through my tears looking for anyone coming down the hallway to answer the front door.

_Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding Dong!_

"Hello?" My raw voice cracked as I called down the hallway, but still - no one. I scrubbed the tears off my face right as more guards darted past me and disappeared down the stairs to the basement. Then it hit me. I was the only one available. I glanced down at my vomit splattered pants and my blood dusted sweater and then wiped more mascara off from under my eyes.

_Ding dong! Ding dong! Ding Dong!_

I sat cross-legged on the floor so I could rip off the sweater, tossing it onto the carpet. Then I pulled the hairband off my wrist and tied up my hair into a messy bun, sniffling a few times as I forced myself to stand and crossed the few feet toward the front door. I checked myself in the enormous Edwardian mirror in the foyer taking in the pale sight as I wiped off the smears of mascara before turning to the door. The floor only grew colder under my bare feet and I took a final shaky breath before yanking open the front door.

The rain was pouring behind Valentina Martín as her finger paused over the doorbell. She was being saved from the storm by keeping under the archway on the porch of our grand entrance. Her staff was standing in the deluge, golf umbrellas shielding them from some of the storm as they waited by her still running town car.

"Your Majesty," she bowed her head toward me and then bent down to grab the bankers box at her feet, WEST written in big black letters along the top and one side.

"Valentina," I tightly replied, shuddering against the cold and sniffling too loud. She shifted the box to her hip, her eyes combing over my suspicious appearance. I didn't break eye contact with her. "I'm busy. What's in the box?"

She bowed her head again, "apologies. I worked with the Fredricks to get you this."

My heart started racing in my chest. I couldn't do it. I couldn't take one more scare today, I didn't think my weak heart or my broken brain could handle it. Nothing good could come from this box, because nothing good ever came from a Circle member. There was no one to intercept it like Elodie had trained me to do. I hesitated and then my manners finally won and I took the box from her hands. It was heavier than I'd expected. Valentina tried to look around me into the house as she explained,

"Your missing person's case was moved to INTERPOL once you'd been photographed in Europe, your Mother's as well once they found a photograph of her getting onto a plane. But with your recovery and then marriage and name change, things can get lost in all that bureaucracy. Especially when there is no next of kin to contact."

I looked closer at the lid. It was still taped shut, not that it meant anything but I appreciated the gesture.

"Have you looked at any of this?"

"My brother has ensured that taking care of _loose ends_ became a specialty of mine," she emphasized. "But I taped it shut for you."

I gripped the handholds harder and let out a single, dark, laugh, "thanks, I guess."

"Think nothing of it, Your Majesty. Unfortunately, I will not be staying for the activities over the weekend. Mateo has created another issue for me to resolve. But I wanted to deliver this personally before I left." With a final bow, she turned to leave, one of her staff members jogging forward to cover her with their umbrella as she slid into her town car.

I couldn't have been more grateful to watch her go, there was no way I'd be entertaining Circle members with a dead Alistar in the basement and the evidence of it all over me. I waited until the car pulled away to kick the door shut and make my way back into the private wing, clutching the box to my chest because I didn't trust my still shaky hands. The living room was silent and dark, I pushed through it toward my office instead. Instant mistake. The giant wood carving of the Saxon compass on my desk was front and center. I grabbed the bottle of vodka off the cart and shifted the box to my hip, making my way down to our room instead.

The bedside table lamps created a soft glow that spilled across the comforter and cast shadows onto the headboard. I sighed, loudly, and then shuffled to the bed tossing the box and the vodka onto it so I could take off my ruined pants. My phone let off a muted buzz against the carpet and I sighed again, leaning over to pull it out from the pocket. Jack. Several texts from Jack sent to Stellan, Elodie and I, all in this strange shorthand I couldn't quite understand. But honestly I didn't need to decipher it, I'd been there. I tossed my phone onto the bed next and then crawled up onto it, pulling some decorative pillows around me to prop myself up.

I dragged the box towards me and closed my eyes for a moment, swallowing hard against my sore throat and trying to mentally prepare myself for this. For a fleeting moment, this little voice in the black vacuum of my overwhelmed mind warned me not to do it. But how could anything inside this box be worse than what I'd already seen today? Pandora would be my bitch tonight. I twisted the cap off the vodka and took as much of a sip as I dared. It stung, horribly, against my raw throat and I pounded on my chest trying to calm it down. I glanced down as my phone buzzed with three texts from Anya. Coughing I unlocked the phone and smiled, it was a picture of us after her pageant. She still had her elf costume on, her arms wrapped around my neck, as I crouched in my heels to hug her around her waist, both of us grinning at the camera. Jack had taken it after Anya's insistence that she needed a good picture of the two of us. It was followed by two texts from her,

_Thank you so much for coming Avery._

_It meant a lot to me._

Tears burned my eyes, and at this point, I just didn't know why anymore. Because of how proud I felt? Because of how horrible I felt that Stellan couldn't be there? Because I'd always wanted someone to rely on me like Anya did, even for small things like this? Because of the continuing stream of texts overlaying the picture from the other three? I locked my phone and wiped at my eyes. I was too much of a mess to text Anya back, and I had other things to take care of tonight. I opened my eyes, ripped off the tape and tossed the lid aside.

At first, it looked like a jumble of papers and small boxes, a mess that someone had rifled through. But as I took a steadying breath it started to formalize into memorable shapes.

This first was very familiar to me - my jewelry box. Crumbling corkboard, with a vinyl wrapping of a delicate cartoon ballerina doing a pirouette, and a cheap brass brushed latch that I'd lost the lock for. I smiled as I opened it seeing all the friendship necklaces, mood rings, buttons, and lanyards. The last time I looked through this jewelry box had probably been five years ago. I was having a hard time recalling some of the names of the girls that had given or made me these things. Putting it next to me on the bed I grabbed the clear plastic box with the blue lid - my state souvenirs box. I always wanted to buy the shot glasses, but my mom would never let me. Instead, it was filled with keychains shaped like Louisiana and California, pins of Florida and Texas, tiny spoons with crests for Arizona and Kansas, and so many postcards. I had always overcompensated with postcards since I'd be disallowed the shot glasses. I shook it around a few times letting other states filter to the top admiring them as my phone started buzzing incessantly behind me. I ignored it.

Next was a wooden jewelry box my mother kept on her nightstand, pine with an overlay of beautifully carved gossamer webs and four little brass balls as the feet. I carefully pulled it out, knowing when I opened it there would be blue velvet inside. She had never let me play with it, saying it was a family heirloom. But now I could see why, the box itself was so delicate and inside were diamond stud earrings, her turquoise hair clip, silver bracelets inset with rubies and emeralds. Each of these had significant meaning and importance in her life, unlike all the equally expensive jewelry I let Anya wear around the house like they were plastic. All of mine had been gifts from the Circle, somehow making them seem even less valuable to me, but now I'd never know the story behind each one of these. I'd never seen her wear the earrings before, was it because they'd been from my father? My phone buzzed again and my mind shot me back down to the basement, blood soaking through his shirt...I placed the box carefully on the bed and then twisted the cap off the vodka and took a swig. It burned all the way down, but it had done the trick - it had distracted me enough to look at the texts.

_DO. _

_NOT. _

_TOUCH. _

_JACK._

At first, I was completely confused and then worried that I'd somehow made Elodie jealous, though I had no idea how. Her threat was on the same chain Jack had been debriefing us all on. But as I scrolled up the next one made me slump.

_Look at this fucking mess you made._

It was followed by screenshot after screenshot of tabloid webpages. All of them showing Jack and I laughing at the Christmas pageant, my hand on his arm. Each one some variation of this being proof I was cheating on Stellan.

_How many fucking times do I need to say this?!_

My fingers were flying before the thought even finished in my brain,

_And yet you HAD to have Stellan help you today!_

_Maybe my Russian would have been good enough after all._

I tossed my phone upside down on the bed, opting to take a slug of vodka instead of deal with Elodie. I'd have to hear it all again anyway - once in French while she berated Stellan about it and then again in English while she scathingly went over it all beat by beat to try and drill the importance of my error into me. Not today. This box was all I had the capacity left to deal with today. The vodka started to warm my limbs, this tingling sensation that made the frustration over it all ebb from my veins with each woozy pulse. I turned my attention back to the box.

Rubber-banded together were two neat stacks of unopened letters, and as I pulled them out my hands started to shake again. Pen pal letters. One stack was clearly the one's I'd written, the other stack were from a variety of states and friends as I flicked through them quickly. It stung, despite Jack's insight. I placed them on the bed as well and reached down to grab the last thing out of the box - a safe. It was small enough to fit inside a bedside table drawer, more of a rectangle than a square, and relatively thin. It bounced as it landed on the bed and I peeked into the box to see if I'd left anything. There was a single manila envelope. I left it and turned my attention to the safe.

The lock had been broken on it, I guess I shouldn't have been surprised by that. I wondered if I could trust all the different law enforcement agencies that had pilfered through it. Or worse Circle members. Then again I hadn't even thought to ask for these items so whatever was left was more than amazing. Opening the lid I was incredibly surprised by the first few items: a small pewter pill case that had a lock of my super dark baby hair, what was left of my baby blanket in a ziplock bag, Mother's Day cards, carefully folded artwork of my painted hands, letters to Santa, coupon books I'd given her for her birthday. I didn't know she'd been keeping all these things. The tears welled in my eyes and I quickly wiped them so they wouldn't plunk onto all these mementos. I gently removed them, setting them next to the box and pulled out some paperwork next: my birth certificate from Boston, my social security card, my immunization records, a passport from when I was about eight years old.

I set all those aside and grew concerned as my eyes surveyed what I had become all too familiar with since Ibiza - ID cards with different names, birth certificates and social security cards with the same fake name, and another set, and another. I was an Anna, Alicia, Alexa. The names felt unfamiliar as they came out of my mouth. My eyes drifted to the stack beneath them, a matching set for my mother.

There were more, but I couldn't look anymore. Instead, I pulled out the manila envelope, tossing the now-empty box onto the floor. There was nothing written on the front, it didn't even look thick enough for anything to be inside, but I knew there had to be. As I held it in my hands I knew it was the same kind of envelope I'd come to fear my whole life. The kind that meant we were moving, the ones my mother always set fire to after she read them. But this one hadn't met the same ashy end. I pulled back the metal clasps and opened it, shaking out a single business card. I gasped as it fluttered to the bed. On one side, filling the face of the card, in big, black, block letters was Alexander the Great Hotel. My shaking hand reached forward and I flipped it over with a single finger to see a line of foreign language and coordinates on the back. I dove for my phone, cursing the flood of unread texts trying to distract me as I searched the random letters and numbers. Holding my breath I watched as the first result popped up, a map with a single pin pointing to - Loreto, Baja California Sur, Mexico.

_No. No, no, no._ Even Mexico? Even our "someday" had been some kind of lie? I threw the phone hearing the glass crack as it hit the wall. The contingency plan for when things got too dangerous in America? She'd been grooming the idea my whole childhood? I glared at the card knowing, with all my heart, that I knew exactly what else it said. I didn't know if I could do it. This day, this month, this year...it had all been too much. I took another hit off the bottle and it sloshed all over my shirt as it thumped back onto the bed, between my folded legs.

Did I even know her at all? Was the person that made me breakfast and packed my lunch real? Or was that an act too? Which life was the lie? The one that was raising me or the one that was running? The anger rose up through all the vodka making hot, fat tears pour down my face. How bad could it have possibly been for me to know? How different could our lives have been if I'd understood the amount of fucking danger I was in? Maybe she'd be alive? Maybe I would have been prepared for Alistar and Cole and Lydia? But none of it mattered in the end. All these lies, all this scheming, all the moves, and the heartbreak and the loneliness was for what? To live in this stupid fucking house? To be tricked into marrying Stellan? To have her murdered by my brother? To kill my sister? To watch my father's brains smear down a wall? I thought I'd lost everything because my eyes were fucking purple, but I lost everything because my mother thought I couldn't handle the truth.

My phone started buzzing loudly on the floor. I got up only intending to silence the incessant noise and through my bleary vision and now badly cracked screen I dismissed Elodie's continuing barrage of screenshots and Jack and Stellan's back and forth in code. Instead, I sat back on the bed and plugged in the words, sending them through the translator app on my phone. I'd started using it because Stellan kept writing all his shorthand in French and I didn't want to be left behind. The translation popped up almost immediately - Greek. I should have known.

_Bishop at school. Leave immediately. _

I squeezed the phone in my fist and then hurled it as hard as I could. It smashed into the giant TV screen with a loud crack, glass falling to the carpet as my sobs made me take these horrible sucking breaths of air. I curled up onto my side, the vodka tipping over with me, my head landing on all the unopened letters.

"What the…" someone exclaimed and I forced my burning eyes open to see an absolutely awestruck Stellan. His eyes were combing over everything on the bed, the box, the destroyed TV, the nearly empty bottle of vodka and then me as he froze in the doorframe. I forced myself to sit back up, righting the bottle and trying to wipe some of the booze off of my shirt. His worried eyes went wider at this motion.

He was here. Here when he shouldn't be. Nothing could stop him from finding me. Especially when I needed him the most.

"Stellan," I sobbed, "please."

"Anything," he immediately replied.

"I have to get out of here."


	28. Chapter 27

I jerked awake, my chest pressing forward as my hand slid into water, trying to save myself. An arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back as things started to solidify around me. Stars through the windows, candles covering every inch of the bathroom counter, a wake of water in our oversized bathtub sliding back toward me. Familiar long fingers brushed up and down my ribs and everything came crashing back in. Vodka. Too much vodka. Panties. Molly. Stellan starting to short circuit in a bar.

I looked down noticing I was still fully clothed, even my strappy sandals were sparkling under the water. It stood out against a pair of very long, bare, legs surrounding me, complete with knees poking through the surface of the water. I didn't dare turn around yet. Instead, I let my hand search next to me in the tub, feeling a pair of boxers. Did I even want to know what happened?

Stellan sighed and started loudly chewing gum. It created this breeze of mint that I inhaled deeply into my lungs. It sounded too loud in the silence enveloping us, but I didn't care. I melted into his chest, sliding down and moving my hands through the water slowly, marveling at how perfect the temperature was and how silky it felt against my skin. It was magical. His hard body and the soft water, floating us like lotus flowers..._oh shit_, I immediately thought and closed my eyes groaning, I was still rolling.

"Um-hmm," he chastised behind me, his voice rumbling in his chest and sending a wave of chills down my body from the vibration. I sat up, my dress billowing around me in the tub, and turned around, moving to the opposite side, so I could face him. The displaced water sloshed up against his bare chest, gleaming in the low light as he blew a quick bubble and popped it loudly while dragging his eyes over me. His forearms were resting on the edge of the tub, his hands hanging loosely. I glanced past him out to the bedroom and noticed more candles there, but I doubted that he'd been feeling overly romantic before I'd blacked out at the bar.

Despite the cocky look I wanted to smack off his face I bit my lip as I devoured the way his collarbone and chest looked in this light. It really was unfair how beautiful he was. After the month we'd spent here together, mostly naked, you would have thought I'd be sick of looking at him. So not true. There was something to be said about the way he was looking at me too - curious, frustrated, amused. It took me back. Before the charity galas and blood plagues. Before all the bullshit our lives had become. When I was a distraction getting in his way.

I gathered up all my wet hair, spinning it into a bun at the back of my head. The droplets splashed back down into the tub, rippling the still water between us. Meeting his eyes I smiled and he grinned back and then shook his head, looking away, exasperated. It was going to be pretty hard to stay mad at me when he was as high as I was. I rose an eyebrow at him,

"So why the water? You trying to kill me?"

He rolled his eyes and then spit his gum out the window toward the ocean below us. He forced a frown, "don't say that."

"Says the guy with the lightning hands in the full bathtub," I giggled.

"Not funny."

"It kinda is," I gave him a knowing smirk, waiting until I knew he'd smile back. I'd finally started appreciating his dark, dry, humor during this trip. I could see him fighting the smile and tacked on, "besides, I think we both know you'll be the one that kills me in the end. Like you were supposed to in the tomb."

"_`Tchyo za ga`lima_," he cursed, his eyes flying open in shock.

"_Rech'_!" I admonished, putting my free hand to my chest as if I was taken aback. My cheeks hurt I smiled so big and I let myself slip under the water completely, avoiding whatever come back he was working toward. It felt amazing, I wanted to stay there forever, but he nudged me with his foot and I resurfaced, smoothing all my hair back off my face.

"One day," I said sliding onto my hands and knees, crawling the few inches toward him, "and I have no idea if it will be a week from now or years from now." I kissed his chest, right at the waterline. "You'll be sick of my shit," I smiled against his warm skin, sliding my lips up toward his collarbones, "and give me one little zap that will throw my bad heart out of rhythm and finally end me." He froze under me as I kissed my way up the side of his neck. "No one but Elodie and Jack will know what really happened." Pressing my body against his chest I whispered in his ear, "and they'll be too terrified to ask."

He cleared his throat, shifting under me, disturbing the water around us. "How often do you think of me murdering you?"

"Never actually," I kissed his temple and then fell backward into the water, making it slosh out of the tub and cascade onto the floor around us. "Maybe only when I'm high."

He shot me an annoyed look. I fought against my smirk. At least he wouldn't have to pick glass out of my feet with this round of Molly. He balled up his left fist and leaned his head against it, "you stupidly got shithoused and then started rolling with your bad heart. Fastest way to cool you down is water."

I nodded, "but why did I blackout?"

"Same reason the circuit breaker blew in this place," he gestured toward all the candles with his free hand and then pointed a long index finger at himself.

"And you're in here because..." I trailed off.

"Would you prefer Peter to be?"

"Niall actually," I giggled.

"Noted," he scowled and then shifted his eyes around the room like they might be listening.

I danced my fingers across the surface of the water, "still seems pretty dangerous."

"It's done." He shrugged. I gave him a skeptical look. "Does your arm hurt?"

I took stock of my body. The small of my back was smarting, even with the Molly pounding through my veins. But there wasn't anything that would have concerned me. I shook my head, tucking some hair that had fallen loose behind my ear.

"Now the fun part of the Molly?" I walked my toes up his thighs onto his stomach.

He grabbed my right ankle, "no."

"We just sit in here until it wears off?" I frowned, sliding the free foot up his abs.

"Yes," he snatched it with a splash.

"Then let's play a game." I sat up, wrapping my arms around my thighs, now only a foot away from him.

"Let's..." he started, releasing my ankles. I splashed forward, practically riding him now.

"Truth or dare." I smiled at him.

He glared at me, "dare."

I rose an eyebrow in appreciation and then looked around the bathroom for some awful task I could give him. Inspiration struck,

"Take a giant bite out of that bar of soap," I jerked my head to the shelf behind him and the stack of exotically scented soaps.

"That has got to be the tamest dare I've ever heard." He scoffed. I rolled my eyes,

"You'd rather shove it up your ass?"

"Now you're a sadist for me?" He cracked back, and I felt myself go bright red.

"If you're not going to do the dare…" I trailed off.

He twisted and reached behind him to the area holding bottles of shampoo and conditioner and plucked the bar of soap with all the bits of lavender in it. Closing his eyes and shaking his head a bit he took a breath and then stuck the corner of the bar into his mouth and bit down.

"Fuck!" I laughed. I honestly didn't think he was going to do it. Stellan started cursing and spitting all the dissolving pieces of soap into the bath, spiking the rest of the bar into the water with a spectacular splash. I dissolved into giggles as he washed his teeth with his finger and kept gulping and then spitting out mouthfuls of bathwater.

He pushed a wave of water toward me and coughed, "truth or dare?"

"Truth! I fear your wrath!" I laughed back. The mischievous gleam that lit up his eyes made the laughter died in my throat.

He smiled, broadly, and said, "tell me, in graphic detail, about your very first orgasm."

I pressed my lips together, hard, knowing I probably looked more like a tomato than a person at this point, and his smile went wickedly wide on his face. Unfortunately, he was misinterpreting my blush. It almost made me feel bad for him. Almost.

"I think it would be a little boring for you…" I trailed off, smirking.

He shook his head, "there's no way."

I propped my arm up onto the side of the bath and examined my nails as I casually tossed out, "well you were there for it."

From the corner of my eye, I watched his face go blank for a moment and then his neck flush as that beautiful smile I loved erased all the snark on his face. He sat up, leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my forehead. With a splash, he was back on his side and nodded at me.

"Truth or dare?" I smiled.

"Truth."

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" And then I slapped the water next to us feeling an unfiltered freeness, "other than murdering nine people."

He instantly went quiet. I wasn't expecting that or for my high to dull. All the bubbly, flirty, fun was ebbing out with each breath. I waited in what felt like unending silence because now it seemed too important not to know. We'd exhausted so many other things about our lives during this trip. How could I know that his most embarrassing moment was when he threw up in the cafeteria in 5th grade, but not this?

"I forced Chloe to get an abortion. And then I broke up with her because the Dauphins were getting suspicious."

"Oh..." was all I could manage, looking out toward the dark ocean and bright stars as another beat passed between us.

"Truth or dare?" He whispered.

I looked up at him, his face reserved but his eyes so intense I already knew there would be no more dares in this game.

"Truth."

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

I didn't even have to think about it, "ignored my mom's calls warning me to stay away from all of you."

"Because you ignored her? Or because she was right to warn you?"

"That's not how you play the game," I stalled.

"I see." He nodded.

"Truth or dare?" I immediately asked, not wanting to allow him to push me further about it.

"Truth."

"What's the second worst thing you've ever done?"

"You want the list, Avery?" He lowly asked, leaning toward me. "Because I have no problem telling you."

"I don't know," I breathed.

"Maybe you should know," he leaned away, settling against the back of the tub. "Then you'll realize just how right your mother was."

"I'm the reason she's dead. Did you murder both your parents?" I replied.

He held my gaze and I swallowed hard, everything freezing in me but I wasn't sure why. Fear?

"You think that's going to scare me away?"

"No one stays," I countered sliding back toward my side of the tub. I reached down into the water to unbuckle my sandals. "Friends. Boyfriends. Family. Everyone forgets me, or gets sick of me."

"How can you be so cruel to yourself?" He wondered, his fully dilated eyes roaming all over my face, "I'm still here."

"Habit?" I laughed, mirthlessly, yanking off my ruined shoes and ignoring his remark.

"I would never do that to you," he slid his hand along the edge of the tub toward me. "I never have."

We met eyes across the water and I nodded. He was right, of course, but if I'd learned anything from all my heartbreak it was that people were never really who they said they were, there was always some hidden agenda.

"I haven't even known you for a year," I said, lifting my sandals out from the bottom of the tub and tossing them aside. "We barely know each other."

"Ahh, but we do," he smiled, a real smile and my blood buzzed through my body, reacting to him immediately. He sat up and leaned toward me, inching his fingers up my arms as he said, "I know you had a shoplifting phase when you were twelve, and there is this perfect triangle of freckles on your inner thigh. You know parts of my past even Jack and Elodie don't know. You know more now than Luc does. I've always answered every question you've had."

Mere inches away from me now I couldn't stop the shiver that raced across my body. I let out a shaky exhale as I whispered, "but that's only because I haven't asked the right questions."

He smiled again, closing the space between us and running his lips slowly along my jaw as he murmured, "what aren't you telling me, my little spy?"

"You really want to know?" I panted, the drugs now singing in my veins from all his smoldering persuasion.

"Was it the right question?" He asked, chuckling against my neck. I chucked back, distractedly, as the room went quiet again.

He left a little bite to my neck that sent another wave of chills through my body, sloshing the water around. With a kiss to the shell of my ear, he slid back to his side, the water rushing out of the infinity tub in a giant wave. His skin glimmered in front of me as his scars caught on all the candlelight. Magic. He shouldn't be alive, for so many reasons. Yet here he was, this gleaming, golden, treasure in front of me.

It all bubbled up. Through the Molly and the last of the vodka. But my lips couldn't form words, all of the letters were getting jumbled as they bumped into my high.

"You." The word broke through everything. "I only want you," I reached behind my neck to unclasp my necklace, the heavy stone hitting the bottom of the tub with a thud. "I don't want anything else about this life but you, and Anya."

I pulled my dress up over my head let it slap onto the floor outside the tub. "We have so much money. We could run. I want to run."

"We only have the money because of this life." He reached toward me, his fingertips tickling a line from the lace of my bra, lower and lower toward the water.

"So fuck the money too. Let's go to Costa Rica or some other cheap place." I inched closer, his hand slipping over my hip under the water, "have a small house, work, live a normal life, the island life."

"Ordinary," he corrected immediately, voice rumbling, fingers roaming, eyes focused on the strap of my bra. "There is no normal. It's a sliding scale."

I paused, fighting against the demand of the Molly to make his hands do more. "You want this extraordinary life then?"

"I'm already extraordinary," he rose his free hand and wiggled his fingers at me.

"You didn't answer my question." I pulled back a little from him, his palm sliding down my thigh.

"You already know the answer," he cocked his head a little as he appraised me. "I gave it to you a long time ago."

Had he? I couldn't remember in the scrambled mess my brain was becoming. It didn't matter. "This isn't freedom - it's a cage."

"That trapped you on a month-long vacation in the Maldives?"

He pulled his hands out of the water, resting his forearms on the edges again. My knees started to protest from the position and I sat down in front of him, the two of us staring at each other, an ocean breeze making all the candles flicker in the room. That connection I'd felt back in Ibiza, that blinding white tether burning between us, pulled taut as the silence stretched out. We took a breath, simultaneously, and then he quietly asked,

"Why are we still here, Avery?"

I blanched. The connection frayed, and panic bubbled up my throat, choking off my immediate reaction of,

"We...are…"

"That thing you did the other day…" he stopped and smiled, his neck flushing. "I guess I stupidly thought you'd get bored of fucking me and finally tell me what was wrong."

The shock of his brutal honesty made this huff of noise escape instead of the thousands of thoughts running wild in my mind. This swirling tornado of panic intensified inside me when he leaned forward,

"You are more than I will ever deserve for all the terrible things I've done." He paused and my heart started beating wildly in my chest. "But I'm not that stupid."

"I never said…"

He cut right over me, "was it all just a lie? Standing beside me? Being a team? A family?"

"Never," I snapped, affronted.

"Then why are we still here?" He implored.

I closed my eyes and felt the first flutter in my scar. The whirlwind of thoughts froze, and the Molly made the truth pour out of me,

"Everything has a price. I didn't know that before," I opened my eyes to find his rapt attention, "but I do now. If I choose the power it will cost me my freedom. If I choose fame it will cost me my privacy. If I choose both it will cost me my family."

"There is no way," he shook his head, but I leaned forward and covered his mouth with a wet hand. Our huge, dilated, eyes staring directly into each others. My subconscious took advantage of the truth serum the Molly had become and it all rushed out of me in a hushed tone.

"Every lesson in history has taught us you can never have all three. I will always choose family over power and prestige. That's why we have to give it up. We have to leave this behind. It will corrupt us. It will destroy everything we're building," I slid my hand down and pressed my palm over the scar on his chest, right over his heart, "I love you. That should be enough."

"The Circle will come for us-"

"So we go back to Mexico, they don't have control-"

He wrapped his warm hand around my wrist, "we'd be dead in a week."

"But we'd be free," I plead.

His eyes went wide in surprise, he swallowed hard and then dropped my wrist. I could feel his heartbeat pick up in his chest against my palm, my arm sent another flutter of warning at me. Of course he was worried, even I hadn't thought I'd rather be dead than stay with the Circle. But now that the truth had finally been said aloud it seemed to grow larger and larger in the silence. I knew what this life would look like 5, 10, 20 years down the road. Board meetings, couture, charity auctions, thinly veiled threats, spent bullets and children being raised in boarding schools. All while I was slowly dying inside, a ghost in the shell.

"You promised me," he finally whispered back. My heart ached in my chest from the agony etched on his face. "You promised me you'd stay. You promised you'd protect me, and I would protect you." He reached a shaky hand up to gently tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, "you said you loved me. That you chose me."

"_YA tebya lyublyu_, Stellan," I gently replied, digging my fingers into his chest. He screwed his eyes shut and leaned his head onto my shoulder, and I knew why. Even I could hear the 'but' in that.

He murmured against my bare shoulder, "I thought about this every minute of your coma. This is our lives now. We can't escape it."

"But," I tried, he shook his head.

"The Circle will murder us all. You don't understand how much danger everyone is in."

"From what?" I asked a little too loudly and pushed away from him, making his head dip a bit in my departure. "Burnt corneas from all these flashes? Too much ass-kissing?"

"Do you know how many people we've murdered? We haven't even been in power for a year!" He shouted back.

"And that's different from before I arrived how exactly?" I crossed my arms over my bra and glared at him.

"Careful," he darkly warned, his eyes narrowing at me, "people might misinterpret your cockiness as actual intelligence."

I shot up out of the water before I acted on the urge to reach forward and strangle him. But he stood as well, the water pouring from his boxers and sticking to his legs.

"I will not put my family at risk," he chastised me, "they've all sacrificed enough already for the two of us. They don't deserve to be hunted like animals because you're getting cold feet."

"Sacrificed?" I scoffed and shook my head stepping out of the tub and onto the wet floor. I grabbed a towel to cover myself, but he yanked it out of my hand, spinning me back toward him and his furious look.

"Luc almost lost his inheritance following us to Egypt. Hugo was going to transfer it all to his infant brother. And that was all after he'd been shot." He stomped out of the bath, slopping his boxers to the ground and pulling the towel tightly around his hips.

I backed up toward the counter, making the candles hiss behind me from the motion. My feet froze to the ground not sure what was more dangerous at this point. He barreled onward,

"Jack doesn't know I had to put Order guards on him. Half the Circle still wants to kill him because they think he's a traitor. Even Alistar tried to beat your secrets out of him when you went to Paris with me. But you want to put his life at risk because you don't like meetings." He sneered at me and stormed out of the bathroom.

I couldn't do anything but stand there, stunned, watching his tattoos condense on his back as everything on him tensed. He disappeared into the bedroom and I fumbled for a towel, quickly wrapping it around my hips.

"And Elodie," he shouted toward me, "Elodie is basically a fucking wizard now from all the magic she has to perform to maintain your persona."

He stalked back into the bathroom, now in a pair of blue boxers and a t-shirt. All I could manage was, "I...I…"

"It would be so much easier to just let you look like an idiot. But she believes in you, she bends over backward for you, she keeps giving you all the chances no one gave her. She can't even feel the tips of her fingers after what the fucking Dauphins did to her. And you just want to abandon her?"

I gasped, I couldn't help it. My mind flew back to South Africa, that ribbon corset dress, her wolfish smile. I fumbled out, "I never said…"

"Do you know how easy it would be for Colette to be in an 'accident' in Africa right now?" He air quoted at me.

"Just stop it!" I yelled. "I fucking get it, okay?!"

"Do you? Because we are still here," he growled.

"Since when is our physical presence needed to protect everyone?" I argued back, feeling my blush ignite with my fury. Grabbing at the towel so it wouldn't fall off I sucked in a quick breath to berate him when he held a finger up to me, taking three quick strides toward me to ask,

"And what about Anya?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. I snapped back, "what about her?"

"We just left her in London." He threw his hands out toward me.

"She wanted to stay!"

"You're missing the point!" He yelled back.

"Argh!" I growled and stalked past him, making sure to shoulder him out of my way. I refused to keep fighting with him basically naked. I stormed to the closet, ripping through whatever was left hanging in the dim candlelight of the room. Yanking a purple sundress off a hanger I threw it over my wet bra and whirled back around and thrust an accusatory finger at him. He narrowed his eyes, but I finally had the nerve to fight back now.

"These are all things I should have known six fucking months ago! Don't get angry at me for not knowing the stakes when you're the asshole that has been keeping me in the dark this whole time! You're like a fucking vault! The only reason I know you can actually emote at all is because my arm feels like it's about to blow off my goddamn body."

"Kettle," he pointed to himself, "pot," jabbed his finger out at me. I jerked in confusion of him messing up the phrase which only made him angrier. He started growling things in Russian and went to turn away from me when I smacked his finger out of the air with a crack,

"I've died a thousand tiny deaths pouring myself out to you. Making myself vulnerable to you and trusting that you weren't lying to me when you told me you loved me and you wanted us to be a family."

"Because I do!" He grabbed my shoulders, tightly, forcing me into the ground a little with the intensity of his hold. "_Ty vse, chto ya khochu_."

"Then come with me," I begged him, "we can't go back."

"Avery," he grabbed my face in his hands, his eyes absolutely pleading, as he choked out, "don't do this."

"Do what?" I ground out between my teeth.

He didn't look away, just kept breathing as the pain in my arm slowly increased. A small buzz filled the house and the lights flooded on all at once. It was like stadium level brightness compared to the candlelight. The fan above us started whirling at top speed, electronics buzzed back to life around us. He released me, but our eyes never left each others. My peripheral vision caught Peter step into our attached living room with a bright smile.

"Got the generator back up," he nodded toward us, and then his face dropped.

"I want to leave. Right now!" I demanded to Peter but kept my eyes on Stellan.

"P...pardon, ma'am?" Peter fumbled to say. I whipped my head in his direction to see his eyes darting between Stellan and me.

"Did I stutter?" I snapped, storming past Stellan. I turned back toward the bed to find a pair of flip-flops as Stellan sucked in a deep, shaky breath.

Then a high pitched buzzing noise filled the room along with a familiar ring tone. Stellan deflated before me, dropping his face into his hands and then ripped at his hair with both of his fists. He ignored the call, I found the shoes, jammed my feet into them and turned back to Peter. His phone buzzed simultaneously with Stellan's again and this spike of fear thudded right into the center of my chest.

Peter took the call, and then immediately put it on speaker.

"Stellan," Jack's voice barked over the line and all the righteous anger froze in my chest, along with my breath. "There's been an accident. El and I are on our way to the hospital. Anya was bucked off her horse. They think...have...before..."

The call broke up and then abruptly ended. Stellan darted toward the dresser, fumbling for his phone and I pointed at Peter and demanded,

"Take us to the plane."

"Right now, ma'am?" He questioned, bewildered. The explosive anger boiled back-up to the surface and I sucked in a furious breath when Peter flinched and started bowing as he backed out of the room,

"Apologies Your Majesties. Forgive me. Right away."

Peter practically sprinted down the dock in front of us and I turned to see Stellan glaring at his leaving form, looking absolutely lethal. His eyes met mine and I snapped my head away and stormed out to the hammock to wait for the yacht.


	29. Chapter 28

I glared at the plum-colored fitted sheet willing it to catch fire so it wouldn't keep tormenting me. Who knew how to fold a fitted sheet anyway? Gemma. But we'd sent her away hours ago. With a giant sigh, I flopped it across my lap and leaned back into the couch. Everything ached and I felt like I was floating - it had been a blurry 48 hours.

Stellan reached toward me, grabbing the sheet with the tips of his fingers to tug it away and I wrenched it back into my fists snapping, "I can do it!"

He grumbled something in reply, but I couldn't tell what he said, or what language it was. Whipping the sheet out in front of me for the fifth time I blinked my burning eyes as Elodie let out a chuckle across from us. Our couch shifted as I felt both Stellan and myself jerk toward the two of them, glaring. Jack raised an eyebrow and then whispered toward Elodie,

"Greek?"

"It has to be, right?" She whispered back with another little laugh. They continued to not seem phased at all by our foul moods. Instead, Elodie leaned her head onto Jack's shoulder and continued with, "you two are going to be a blast with a newborn."

"What the fuck are you even talking about?" I growled, tossing the sheet at our coffee table, admitting defeat. They both laughed and then Jack explained,

"You're fighting with each other in completely different languages. Haven't understood a word either of you has said for the past two hours."

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Elodie offered.

"I'm not tired," I snapped at the same moment as Stellan. Jack and Elodie tried to hide their laughs by pressing their lips together. I rubbed my eyes and sunk further into the couch. I, for sure, knew that one had come out as Afrikaans.

"Anya is finally sleeping. She gets the cast tomorrow. Your guilt-ridden, micromanaging can take a break now." Elodie said, standing and pulling Jack up with her. "We'll watch over her tonight."

"Besides we need you both back at top speed tomorrow," Jack added, the two of them shuffling toward the back of the house.

I hurled a pillow, feebly, at their leaving backs which only made them laugh more. Their happiness and lack of sleep deprivation made me want to stab them. Stellan grumbled something in my direction as he made his way toward the bedroom and I fell over into his empty spot on the couch and immediately fell asleep.

But it was nothing but nightmares.

Anya's brave face quickly dissolving into tears when we'd finally stumbled into her hospital room. The huge, multicolored, bruise that wrapped around her left hip and thigh. Her grimace when the nurses would poke at her injuries. All her monitors beeping through her fitful sleep on her hospital cot. Which morphed into my twisted memories of my scar and my weak heart. Followed by lightning storms. Then gunfire and blood. And finally drowning. They always ended in drowning.

I woke up gasping, clutching my chest as my eyes darted around the dark room. I smacked at the space next to me, looking for Stellan, only to remember I wasn't in a bed, and he wasn't there. He hadn't been, for the past few days. I'd locked myself in the bedroom on the plane, opting to sleep off my come down from the Molly alone. Then we'd taken turns sleeping in chairs in Anya's hospital room until they'd released her. We'd only talked about what was necessary - logistics, doctors, medications, appointments, plans. Battling off our Molly induced depressive state, jet lag, and guilt was enough to keep the obvious conversation we needed to have at bay. That wasn't exactly helping me sleep either.

Glancing at the clock I saw I'd managed to get almost six solid hours, but I still felt fuzzy, or was it exhausted? Everything ached down to my bones. Large details continued to elude me - like when was the last time I ate? Or had a sip of water? Or changed my clothes? But that was only when my internal thoughts weren't pummeling me with guilt.

The quiet of the room, mixed with the golden morning light pouring through all the windows, lured me back toward sleep. I even contemplated pulling a blanket over my wrinkled clothes before passing back out when a commotion started to make its way down the hall.

It started with a stampede of feet and quickly snapped orders, followed by the door to our private wing being flung open and a gigantic purple teddy bear being dumped onto the couch next to me.

I blinked hard at it. Clearly, I was losing my mind and full-on hallucinating now.

"Avery?" A familiar voice called out to me and I squinted as Luc came into focus. He was in a sharp, gray, three-piece suit, with a beautiful pale purple tie that matched his eyes.

"Are you real?" I wondered aloud, glancing next at the professionally wrapped presents men were stacking around myself and the teddy bear.

Luc let out a laugh and then waved off all his helpers with some more commands in French. Rounding the coffee table he stood before me, mouth quirked in a contemplative red pout, and then tilted his head and asked, "so is it true that you turned down two different celebrities before Stellan had to carry you out of a bar?"

"How did you hear about..." I trailed off, squinting at him. He was far too alert and excited about this. But if Luc knew that meant it was only a matter of time before it would be blasted all over the front page of every gossip rag. Sighing I rubbed at my eyes again, "yeah. That happened."

Honestly, it felt like it had happened in a different life at this point. Everything after that had gotten so progressively worse. Luc made the coffee table creak as he sat on it, directly in front of me.

"How drunk were you?" He laughed.

"It was more the Molly that made him carry me out," I let slip.

"Avery West Korolov!" He gasped so sharply I jumped, then groaned at how he'd said my name. "Tell me everything, right now!"

"It's all kinda fuzzy Luc," I tried to pacify. I was not in the mood for this. "What's with the Jack sized teddy bear?"

"For the princess of course!" He smiled at his offerings and then leaned forward - conspiratorially. "But was the Molly before or after all the booze?"

"After." I yawned, digging deeper into the couch.

"Rookie mistake." He shook his head in disappointment. "Why didn't Stellan stop you? He knows better."

I stretched my sore body as I yawned again, "I'd sort of roofied him at that point."

"AVERY!" He shouted and then fell backwards as he laughed - loudly. Architecture magazines and the bowl of decorative potpourri spilled all over the area rug underneath him.

I flopped behind the giant purple teddy bear, groaning. My stupid mouth. I could feel myself turning bright red as Luc gasped air back into his lungs between laughs. I needed to stay mute for the rest of the day, or I was only going to dig this hole deeper.

"Wait…" Luc hiccuped, "wait...tell...me...how…" he forced out, trying to stop laughing but failing miserably. It was all muted behind the bear and I just ignored him. But then he slapped a hand down on my knee and yanked the bear off my face. "Details. I need details."

"No way," I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You have no idea how epic this is. Legendary! This single night shall live in infamy."

I rolled my eyes at him. If he only fucking knew...

"What's going on?"

I squeezed my eyes tight and held back the growl I wanted to give. Because of course, this would be the moment that Stellan wandered into the living room. Luc's hand pinched my kneecap in between his hiccuping breaths. We both heard Stellan's boots stomping closer and I snapped my eyes open and tried to metaphorically stab Luc with the dirtiest glare I could give him. He released my knee, waving me off with an eye roll, and turned toward Stellan to brightly exclaim,

"Oh just lamenting about how itchy casts can be."

"Jesus," I grumbled under my breath. That was the worst possible lie.

"Neither of you has ever broken anything, how would you know?" Stellan suspiciously asked and then sat on the table next to Luc. I shot Luc another dirty look as I forced myself to sit back up. Stellan waited for an explanation as Luc rearranged the bear and casually tossed out,

"I know lots of things."

I kicked his shin. He let out a curse. And then we all turned to see Jack and Elodie making a protective circle around Anya and her entire left arm, covered in a soft cast. My heart ached in my chest again at the sight of her. She was too little to be dealing with something so awful. But her grimace of pain lifted a bit off her face when she took in all her perfectly wrapped presents stacked around me. I immediately stood up to vacate the space.

"Are these for me?" She brightly asked, looking at the three of us, I pointed at Luc. He gave her a deep nod,

"Of course _ma princesse_. Anything for my family in their time of need."

I waited for him to correct himself, to add that "thirteenth" to the front of family that the Circle just loved to clarify. But he didn't, and my stomach knotted into a tight, awful, ball. All the things Stellan had yelled at me in the Maldives started to rise through the fog I'd been stumbling through. I felt like I was going to throw up. While the four of them fussed around Anya I mumbled needing to shower and left as fast as I could.

* * *

I flopped, restlessly, under the covers. Shifting and stretching to try and force myself to get comfortable. It wasn't helping. I'd put a pillow between us when we'd first come to bed to get a little more comfortable as I scrolled through my phone, but I still hadn't moved it away.

At first, I'd been working, reading through some Order findings and double-checking my schedule for the next couple of days. But that had all quickly run out and I was still in no mood to talk to Stellan so I'd purposely started playing solitaire. Endless solitaire. Hoping it could lull me to sleep, even after Stellan had wordlessly passed out next to me. Mercifully, my phone buzzed back to life on the night table and I slapped around for it, rewarded with a text from Colette.

My heart leapt into my throat. I'd been dying to talk to her, going so far as to contact her publicist a few times since she'd left to see how I could get a hold of her, but I'd always struck out.

_How is Anya? I'm so worried about her!_

_She's fine. Clean breaks. _

_Going back to school tomorrow._

_I think she's enjoying all the attention._

_Well, it is quite dramatic. LOL._

_The Maldives huh? That's one way to spend Christmas._

_And New Years._

_Are the rumors true? Was it a 'babymoon'?_

_Are you pregnant?_

_Of course not!_

_You do still have three more years._

_Or they put me out to pasture? LOL_

_Or they start the in vitro treatments. _

_It's better to have several heirs in quick succession._

_As early as possible._

_I have to pop out children…_

_before I can legally drink?!_

_Oh please like that's stopped you! Hahaha_

_Wait you aren't joking..._

_You have plenty of time. Don't worry._

_You say that now._

_You have to tell me all about the trip!_

This insane rush of emotions flooded me - desperation, anger, sadness, panic. I wanted to rip the pillow away from between us and snuggle up into his warm back and punch Stellan repeatedly until he woke up all at the same time. My deep-seated need to unload all of this onto someone, have someone else tell me if I was overreacting, made my chest ache in anticipation. Jack was out of the question and it would be a cold day in hell before I talked to Elodie about problems I was having with Stellan - but Colette had always been a voice of reason for me before. The further we got from our fight in the Maldives the harder it was for me to find a way to talk to him about it. Instead, it just simmered in my chest dangerously close to boiling with every barb or nonchalant comment he threw my way. If I couldn't even figure out what to yell at him how could I ever feel like we'd resolved anything? I tried to think of where to start when my phone buzzed several times in my hand.

_I only have access because I'm in town._

_Celebrating with some of the crew._

_It has been so fulfilling, Avery. _

_I can't thank you enough for allowing me to leave._

_My heart hasn't felt this full since before Liam died._

And just like that all the frantic thoughts I'd been ready to unleash hardened in my throat like a heavy ball that thudded quickly down to my stomach. I couldn't do that to her. I couldn't tell my one friend in the world that everything had gone to shit the moment she left. I had to lie.

_Can't wait to hear about it as well!_

_Be safe! Miss you!_

I didn't even wait to see if there was a reply. I opened my drawer and tossed the phone into the back of it with a soft bang. A couple of mini vodka bottles rolled toward the front and I grabbed them all. If I couldn't force myself to fall asleep, I guess I'd drink myself there.

* * *

"They moved all of Anya's things to her new private dorm and Mila arrived this morning." Jack filled in.

"The extra Order guard for her?" I asked, the name vaguely registering for me.

"Yes," Stephen nodded. "She'll also be an aid for her during her healing."

"Like covering up her cast for bathing and all that?" I looked down the hallway toward the growing group of girls surrounding Anya. They were laughing and giggling, each vying for a chance to sign her sparkling purple cast with their rainbow of sharpies.

"As well as her physical therapy after," Jack added. I nodded, trying to ignore their chattering as it echoed up the stone walls back toward us.

"And the concussion. You know to…" I started to say and Jack put a quick hand on my shoulder,

"We know. Don't worry."

I nodded and took a breath, trying to reset when I remembered,

"We didn't have to put her horse down, right? I think that would have backfired spectacularly," I trailed off and looked over at Stellan for some solidarity. He just blinked.

"No," Stephen answered. "The investigation revealed the horse to be in good condition, uncompromised, and uninjured. It appears that it was just an accident."

I gave Stephen a skeptical glance, not sure if he meant it or it was just what he had to say when the walls had ears. Jack let out a huff of agreement,

"Unfortunately, it happens. I was about ten when I was first thrown."

"Well if you've been thrown…" I emphasized as I looked down at my phone. The incessant buzzes were coming from Elodie, already at the venue waiting for us. The drop off back at St. Lucia's was taking longer than planned. But I needed to make sure that everything was set in place for Anya before we had to jump back into the fray. The Headmistress was just verifying the extra safety logistics we'd requested were in place before we could leave.

"Were there any other precautions other than what we've discussed?" Stephen addressed the group and I drug my eyes away from my texts to glance at Stellan. He seemed to shake awake into his body and cleared his throat,

"No, unless you observe something. Report into us first."

"Of course," Stephen gave us a quick bow and started down the hall.

"You alright?" Jack asked and I went to reply when I realized he'd asked Stellan. We simultaneously turned for his answer when the Headmistress' door swung open,

"Apologies for the delay. Everything is set. Thank you for your patience."

"Please make sure you inform us should anything further come up," I smiled tightly at her, she stiffened and swallowed hard. I wasn't exactly thrilled that our investigation had shown Anya had escaped from her room before the rest of the school was awake to get down to the stables. If Stephen hadn't been following her she would have had hypothermia as well as a broken arm and wrist.

"Of course," she gave me a deep nod and then brushed past us calling out to the group and making them disperse back to their dorms. With the hallway clearing, I looked back over at Stellan, still oddly detached from all this. He smiled, blankly, at the two of us and then inched his fingers to the small of my back, Jack took that as a cue to leave. As the three of us started back toward the town car I stopped to wave goodbye to Anya. She gave me a quick half-smile in return, more interested in what her friends were trying to scribble on her cast. Stellan called something out to her in Russian, I was pretty sure he was telling her to be safe, and she rolled her eyes at him and huffed out a loud,

"I know!"

All her friends let out a nervous giggle in response. But before I could berate her we were moving again and the giant wooden doors of St. Lucia's closed behind me.

* * *

We had barely been back for a week and Elodie already had me in Hague in front of a bunch of UN members to talk about child trafficking and the organization we were now supporting. Pretty bleak topic to transition to when you'd just spent a month inside a booze-filled haze of lust. But like most things in my life now, it was a perfectly executed strategic move. The Circle used to get most of their children to feed the Keeper program from child trafficking, especially in some of the more...communist countries. It was another direct jab at them, which of course meant some thinly veiled speech a team of people had meticulously prepared. Why Stellan never had to give speeches was beyond me, especially this speech - he was the damn Keeper. I watched him round to the other side of the car and tried not to glare.

The door slammed shut behind me and I tossed my purse into the space between us, digging through it to try and find the index cards Elodie had stashed in there for this. There would be a teleprompter, of course, but I was still getting used to using it. I flipped through the cards and asked the car,

"What's the deal with this one again? Is it Saxon or Korolov?"

Jack looked up from his phone and glanced at Stellan who shrugged.

"Let me ask a different way," I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my dress tighten across my back with the motion. "Did I inherit this task or did Elodie burden me with it?"

"Technically you've inherited everything you do," Stellan drawled. I glared at the side of his face as he flicked through his phone. The car lurched to a stop and I shoved my cards back into my purse. Jack awkwardly cleared his throat and I took in a deep breath when we all heard the noise outside the car.

"For fuck's sake," I grumbled just as the door opened to a barrage of flashes and shouting. There had been a path cleared by security to get to the front door, but I could barely see it from the temporary blindness. Elodie appeared in front of me with a wide grin, shouting a bit over the noise,

"I'll steer you towards the right one."

The outside of the venue was crawling with paparazzi. This tight mash of people in dark coats all pushing and shoving toward the front. Their microphones and cameras were catching off the afternoon light that had finally managed to peek through the dreary dark storm clouds. All of them were shouting my name and ridiculous questions,

"Who are you wearing?"

"Can I get a comment on…"

"Is it true that you…"

"What's your New Year's resolution?"

I simultaneously felt Elodie grab the pocket of my jacket to yank me forward while Stellan had grabbed the belt loop on the back of my jacket tugging me back. I stumbled a bit in my heels and Jack grabbed my arm to steady me but I shook them all off in frustration. Elodie turned around to see the delay and then pointed toward a brunette with incredibly shiny hair and too much makeup on. She thrust a microphone toward me and I caught a logo but I couldn't be sure what it said. That didn't give me much time to figure out which version of myself had to answer this pop quiz. Her too white teeth gave me a predatory grin as I felt Stellan slide up next to me and she thrust her microphone at me over all the noise and shouted,

"Tell us about the Maldives! Such a long trip!"

Ahh, so it was the 'Idiot American Teenage Bride' version of myself. I gave her my best, dazzling, Circle smile and leaned forward to say into the mic, "we'll I'm American. I wanted to take a proper European holiday."

She laughed, a beat too long, as a few microphones from other reporters swung our way. I was ready to move on when she quickly darted the mic back to herself and asked,

"What was your favorite Christmas present?"

Panic. Blood freezing panic filled my chest and I looked down at Stellan's shiny dress shoes to try and stall. I didn't have a single example to give because we had forgone Christmas altogether. Even when it had been mentioned to me while in the Maldives I'd brushed it off. A corner of the living room in our private wing was still decorated like it was Christmas Eve, with beautifully wrapped presents under a giant tree Gemma was somehow keeping alive. I didn't even want to open them now.

Stellan poked me, covertly, in the back. I'd have to lie. I forced a sly smile across my lips and looked directly into his eyes as I said,

"I can't tell you that!"

They ate it up. Cameras started clicking at double speed, the reporter was fumbling all over herself to try and get me to expand. Stellan's fingers cinched around my waist and then I broke eye contact just long enough to see the first few drops of rain start plunking down on everyone. Elodie jerked her head towards the front door of the venue and we made a break for it.

Shaking the few drops off of our coats we followed Elodie down the twisting hallways toward the growing noise of the ballroom where I'd be giving my speech. At least we wouldn't have to stay for the rest of the summit they were having. I handed my coat off to Jack, squeezing my phone in my fist as he and Elodie snuck through a door to see if they were ready for me. As I took a few deep breaths to try and prepare Stellan leaned toward me, close enough to smell the wool and rainwater still hanging on his jacket, to lowly say,

"I did get you a Christmas present."

I leaned heavily against the wall, away from him. So had I. But I hadn't exactly been in a charitable mood toward him since we'd been back. We hadn't shared a bed, a meal, or anything other than crucial details with each other. Half out of necessity, but the other half because…

_BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!_

I immediately answered my phone, looking away from Stellan and back toward the door, hoping Elodie and Jack would come barreling out next.

"What?" I snapped.

"Avery," Luc answered. "Did you hear? Michiyo had her baby."

"Are they both okay?" Stellan tensed in my peripheral vision and I tacked on, "Her and the baby, are they well?"

"Yes, yes. But you'll need to play your next couple of moves perfectly here. It's going to set a precedent."

"When has anything I've done not set a precedent," I cracked back. Luc just laughed in return, right as Elodie cracked open the door and waved me in. "I gotta go, I'm giving a speech to the UN."

"_Bonne chance!_" He merrily chirped before hanging up. Like that was something he did all the time himself.

Elodie gave me another aggravated wave to come in and I pushed off the wall, handing my phone over to her. When I looked back, as the door started to close, Stellan had slumped against the wall, frowning.

* * *

_Click. Click. Click._

"You've thrown so much weight behind so many causes. Speaking at the UN summit on child trafficking last week, how do you find the time for all this?"

I handed off my empty glass tumbler to the assistant floating around as I pretended to contemplate this question. Behind the reporter from Vanity Fair, I could see Stellan and Elodie watching in silence. His portion of this annoying publicity stunt had already been fulfilled - pictures and canned answers.

"When it's important to you, you make the time," I gave her a dazzling Circle smile. "Don't get me wrong, I have taken a couple of vacations."

_Click. Click. Click. _The photographer circled the two of us, getting every beat of the moment. She laughed, brightly, as she looked down at her notes. "If I could just ask one more question?"

I darted my eyes up at Elodie to see if that was part of the plan. These reporters tried to sneak in extra questions sometimes that I hadn't prepped for. Elodie nodded and I pulled at the bottom of the sequined mini skirt she'd squeezed me into for this, saying, "of course."

"Thinking back to before this whirlwind started what would you say you miss more?" She paused and my stomach flipped. This wasn't one of the questions. I should have known this woman was going to go rogue. She was only going to get one shot at interviewing me. I didn't dare lose eye contact with the traitor, that would be a sure sign of weakness. Her smile fell a little as she realized she hadn't shaken me, but she continued, "casual clothes or junk food?"

"Casual clothes," I immediately answered, catching Elodie's scowl behind her. "What I wouldn't give for a pair of chucks right now!" I flashed my red bottoms at her.

_Click. Click. Click. _The reporter laughed again and stood walking over to shake my hand,

"Thank you so much."

"No problem," I stood and firmly shook her hand, while simultaneously pulling my mic off. Letting go she moved toward the photographer, no doubt wanting to see what he'd managed to catch and I passed the mic to a stagehand and made my way back to my entourage.

"Very funny," Elodie growled at me.

"I can already see the headline," I said while taking my heavy jacket from Elodie's arm, "Heedless Heiress Confirms Contempt for Shoes."

She swung my purse toward me while she grumbled, "and then we'd also own Vanity Fair."

I rolled my eyes at her, shrugging into my jacket and sloppily trying to free my hair, "oh wait. We already do."

"Girls. Girls. You're both pretty," Stellan drawled, as he reached forward and carefully tugged a straggling piece of hair out from under my jacket. His fingers curled around a pink highlight and slowly followed it all the way down. A chill raced down my spine, making me want to shiver, but I fought it. Instead, I focused on Elodie snapping something off in French. I stepped away, grabbing it all up into a quick bun on the back of my head and held my hand out to Elodie.

"You take your _pretty_ self back to Riberton," she chastised him as she passed over a hairband to me. "We have important things to do."

My hair now up I looked over my shoulder to see Stellan's eyes burning into the offending bun. Or was it Elodie? Probably both. At that moment I realized I couldn't remember the last time he'd touched me, let alone my hair. This Groundhogs Day life we led felt like drunken, blurry, chaos most of the time for me. My phone and Elodie told me where I needed to go, cars took me to the places, people dressed me, fed me, I was just this object that needed to vomit back scripts and smile convincingly. But not with him. That had been the biggest pull of wanting to leave for me. I only wanted to be the person I saw reflected in his eyes. And yet here we were.

"You'll have to remind me again why fluff pieces fall into that category." He cracked back. "Because I'd love to switch places. Any day."

I spun on my heel and started clicking away from him before Elodie could get her barb in. It didn't matter what she said, it would be in French, and it's not like my opinion mattered anyway.

* * *

"What does this note say again?" I pointed to an X in the top right corner of the map, Elodie's neat handwriting was unfortunately in French. The plane shook a bit with some turbulence and I took a glance at Stellan across the table from me, glad for the space between us. He was glowering at the map, biting his lip in concentration. I looked back down, my chest contracting with misery. It was almost three weeks now since we'd rushed home because of Anya's accident. I kept waiting for someone to ask me what was wrong, why we were acting so strange, what had happened between us but I'd come to realize no one had asked because no one could tell. Except for Stellan and I.

Everyone outright ignored me, instead, Elodie pointed to another X on the map and said, "the Order did find some symbols there but it might just be a coincidence."

I wasn't all that surprised, despite everything we'd gone through collectively. I was quickly reduced to the equivalent of a floor lamp whenever the three of them were working through something together. Even though I was the one that had deciphered the mandate and figured out the riddles for the bracelets. The meeting today was a cumulation of months of Elodie's difficult liaising with the Order on some of the other, scarier, mandates we might have to deal with. It seemed I was only invited because they needed me to sign off on the next place to throw money at.

"Coincidence or the place had already been ransacked?" Stellan countered. Elodie shook her head,

"The Order was there first."

"This was a location the Circle didn't know about," Jack distractedly added still scanning the map. Stellan nodded and moved around the table toward my side. My stomach clenched and I bit down on my tongue and let out a breath slowly trying to keep my composure. He settled next to me and I relaxed a little and examined the map again, trying to decipher another note in French.

"Good work El," Stellan said straightening and reached between us to run his fingers through the ends of my hair. It was such a normal gesture between us, he'd done it probably hundreds of times now. But everything on me instantly recoiled away from him, like his fingers were snakes. I shook away from his touch, sidestepping to my right.

I felt everyone's eyes first look at the marked space between us, then Stellan's hand hanging in the air where I used to be, and finally between the two of us.

A curiously confused look passed over Jack and Elodie's faces and Jack lowly drawled, "alright then?"

I pressed my lips together, nodded and then curtly replied,

"I agree. Thank you, Elodie. If we're done here I have to get ready for this dinner." I turned and quickly retreated towards the back of the plane.

* * *

I wasn't even quite sure which country we were in at this latest ass-kissing dinner, things start to get blurry fast when the crew is always handing you champagne when you board the plane. Poland? Hungary? I suppose the food was good, what little I ate of it, but I was already bored by the conversation. It had been days of these meet and greets with Circle heads but it felt like weeks. The group of them laughed - hearty, inebriated laughs that drew the attention of the other patrons around us. I could feel their eyes, the diners trying to get a good shot of me at the table, the Vasilyev's gauging if they'd garnered our favor, Stellan. Always Stellan. I gave the table a tight smile and shook the ice around in my drink, watching the limes swirl with the vodka.

"It would mean so much to Yelena if you'd be able to come. The highlight of the night," Evgeni Vasilyev implored, leaning across the table toward me.

"The highlight of her wedding night?" Stellan joked. The group laughed again. I smiled at my drink as I took another gulp. As they settled all eyes turned to me and I shrugged,

"I'm with Stellan. You sure she wants me there?" I rose an eyebrow at Evgeni. "If Alistar could have gotten one more trip in I might have married a different Russian."

I winked at Evgeni and the table exploded in raucous laughter, all heads in the restaurant snapping toward us. Stellan ran a hand across my back, squeezing my shoulder a little too tight.

"_Udivitel'no_," Aleksandr Vasilyev pounded his chest with his fat fist, trying to break up a cough brought on by his laughter, "the two of you together is a sight to behold."

"It's all her," Stellan smiled as he dug his fingers in deeper. I sat up straight in acknowledgment and to force his hand off me. I tossed the rest of the vodka back, shaking the ice. Everyone followed suit as Stellan gave me a warning look, I loudly crunched the ice between my teeth in return. He's the one that insisted we come to this, he knew the price of admission.

"So it's settled then. The Winter Palace in February for the Vasilyev wedding." I rose my empty tumbler, the table followed, glasses clinking. Then I held it out to the waiter next to me, shaking the ice around, not even bothering to look at him as I added, "more limes this time."

* * *

"There is no way out of this. You have to go," Stellan commanded toward the phone on the dining room table between us. His giant iPhone was perched on top of his empty wine glass, amongst the remains of a dinner we'd both pretended to eat. Limes counted as fruit right?

"But I already told Cecilia that I would go to her family's winter house for skiing!" Anya whined over the line. It was a side of her I'd never witnessed before, and it was becoming increasingly annoying. Stellan, however, appeared bored by the whole exchange. With all the years he had on me with parenting her I'm sure this wasn't his first rodeo with this tactic.

"And who told you that was okay?" He demanded. "You know you have to clear these things with us."

"Jack said…" she tried.

"Don't you dare drag Jack into this. Jack isn't responsible for you," Stellan snapped. And I couldn't stop my head from shaking in disappointment. Already trying to throw Jack under the bus. We totally should have homeschooled her. All St. Lucia's had given us was lice and attitude.

"You're the worst!" She blurted. "You never let me do…"

"_Dovol'no,_" I yelled over her outburst. "_Perestan'te razgovarivat'!_ You are being disrespectful and selfish and I've heard enough of it. You will go to this Leap Year Ball. And you will not complain about it ever again. Understood?"

"_Da_, Avery," she sullenly replied.

"And pack your bag tonight. You're taking the chopper back to Riberton tomorrow. You can't come back with me after the open house, I have to stay a bit longer."

"Okay," she sighed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," we both replied at the same time and the phone call abruptly ended. If we could have seen her I was pretty sure she'd be scowling at the phone. I threw back the rest of my drink in one swallow, still thrumming with annoyance. No one wanted to go to this Leap Year Ball, least of all me. But there was no way out of it, the entire Circle was going to be there. I didn't like the direction her attitude was taking lately - at all. She'd been challenging the two of us on literally everything since we'd come back. The color of her cast, how long she had to stay at Riberton, which gifts she was going to bring. What happened to the girl that was excited about seeing the ocean and played with Shopkins? Fucking St. Lucia's…

With my drink finished and the pleasant dulling of the senses hitting my veins I rose from the table to pour myself to bed. Stellan did as well, and I figured he'd just make his way to his office like he did every night. And I'd stumble into bed and shove a pillow between us like I did every night. And then I'd have a mimosa in the morning and continue slowly dying inside while ensconced in perfect couture.

"Avery?" He called out to my back and I looked over my shoulder in question. "Thank you."

"No problem," I gave him a small smile in return and then kept on my way toward the bedroom. But his footsteps continued to follow me.

"Please wait," he continued. "I was hoping to talk to you."

I stomped to a halt in the living room and spun around to face him, "so talk."

He blanched, not ready for my mood. Then swallowed hard, and this flash of warning went off in my chest. This wasn't going to be good.

"We didn't finish our discussion in the Maldives."

"Discussion," I flippantly grumbled as if that's what it was. He shot me a look that I returned with a glare.

"You just keep avoiding me and it's only making this worse."

"Like it matters," I let out a mirthless laugh. "I don't have a choice."

"But you don't have to be miserable doing it," he implored. I started storming away from him toward our room, his dress shoes clicking behind me in perfect pace.

"Contrary to your accusations in the Maldives," I snapped turning around to face him, "I am not interested in spilling more blood on my hands. I cannot handle one more person being murdered because they know me. So I'm here, and I'll stay here. But it doesn't mean I have to enjoy every minute of this life."

"_Kuklachka_," he reached forward, sliding his warm palms across my cheekbones to pull me toward him.

I wanted to jerk away. I really did want to but...his fingers raking through my hair, his lips on my forehead, even the smell of the expensive gel he put into his stupid hair mixed in my brain like a drug. Goosebumps flashed across every inch of my skin and I sighed, leaning my head heavily into his left palm. I needed more, thirsty for his touch. He stepped toward me, one hand sliding down my back, the other cradling my head to his chest. I melted further into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my ear harder against his ribcage to hear his heart beating madly in his chest. It was like I could finally breathe again. But this was why I'd kept my distance, this was why I'd blocked him out because I knew the moment he touched me everything was going to melt away - and I was still so angry with him.

"It's only for a couple more years," he murmured against my forehead. "Then you can move away from the spotlight if you wanted to."

"What are you saying?" I asked, pulling away from him and took a step back, now in the doorjamb of our bedroom. Then it hit me. What Collette had said in her text. "You mean children? I only have to kill myself over this bullshit for a couple more years before you yank me out of it to turn me into some baby factory?"

"That's not what I said," he immediately tried to pacify.

"I don't know which part of this is the most insulting."

"Avery…" he tried to cut in.

"Accusing me of not holding up my part of this bullshit truce we made. Or that you only need me to do it until I've paid my debt to this family."

"For fuck's sake," he threw his hands up, "that's not what I'm saying. You want an out. I found one for you."

"I just gotta put my legs up for it?" I sneered at him. Shock rippled across his face and he stood there, stunned. I could see in his eyes the panic as he tried to cobble together some kind of lie or justification or explanation to pacify me. But the time for that was over. I spun around ready to slam the door when he shoved his shoe in the doorjamb,

"Don't do this," he warned.

"Come back in three years and I'll do my duty." I lowly replied and then shoved the heel of my red-bottomed shoe into his shin, sending him off balance. He stumbled back, losing his grip on the doorframe and meet my eyes, wounded. I quickly slammed the door shut and locked it.

"Avery," he called out to me, as I heard his palm fall against the door. I put my hand on the door as well and then the other one over my mouth as hard as I could, the tears hot and fast down my face. We stood there for at least five minutes, a few inches of wood between us when he lightly knocked twice and then moved across the hall.


	30. Chapter 29

My phone buzzed in my purse and I ignored it. My day was completely booked. There was something else happening today, something I was forgetting - but I highly doubted it was that important if it hadn't been glaringly obvious this late in the day. The line of traffic to move through the front gates of St. Lucia's lurched again as we waited our turn.

It was annoying that we weren't already pulling up to the front, but the sheer number of people here couldn't be avoided. It was their version of Open House. It was more like some awful 'courting season' as they begged famous parents to mingle with prospective families by dangling progress reports and free booze in front of them. I had received a personal call from the headmistress to ensure my attendance. Not that I was planning on staying for the whole event. Already bored I called up toward the front,

"You're Anya's new driver aren't you?"

"Yes Ma'am," he quickly replied, straightening in his seat, hands sliding to 10 and 2. It seemed strange until I remembered why that might sound threatening coming from me. I tried to sound friendly as I asked,

"How is she doing? You probably see more of her than I do, darting her around for all her shopping errands."

"Fine. As to be expected starting a new school, Ma'am." He carefully replied.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I pushed, my tone changing to concern. He glanced back at me for a moment and then cleared his throat.

"I overheard one of her friends consoling her last week. It would seem some older girls have been picking on her."

"What?!" I snapped and my body burned with anger. Just as suddenly I felt that awful nausea that would always come over me when the mean girls would pick on me. I shook my head, my mood instantly darkened with this protective edge I'd never felt before. The headmistress was going to wish she'd never invited me to this.

"I didn't mean to offend Ma'am," he cautiously said finally pulling to the front of the school.

"You didn't," I darkly replied. "Thank you."

I ignored the overly friendly greetings from some of the teachers. I stormed right past Stephen, who, like the professional he was, fell immediately into step behind me. I brushed past people attempting to greet me and the swarm of girls in pleated plaid skirts hugging and dragging their parents toward the main hall. I marched right into the headmistress' office and slammed the door behind me. She startled, nearly jumping away from her desk, a hand to her chest as she breathed,

"Mrs. Korolov!"

"Please explain something to me," I carefully started. Her whole body froze at my tone and I took a few clicking steps toward her desk. "What exactly am I paying for here?"

"P...pardon?" She stuttered a bit, clearing her throat.

I ran my finger along the edge of her desk, making a line through the dust and then wiped it off on one of the visitor chairs with a frown. "I've come to find out that in the small amount of time she's spent here Anya has not only contracted lice and broke her arm in two places but has been subjected to bullying by some of your students."

"Never," she blurted, shocked and affronted, "bullying is absolutely…"

"And yet," I barked over her, "my sources say she has. We can both agree that my sources," I hissed, "are better than yours."

"Be that as it may," she struggled to say but I ignored her again continuing with,

"I am starting to question the validity of this school. I take the safety of my daughter seriously and I will not continue to support this institution let alone send her to a place that has proven to be detrimental to her health."

"Mrs. Korolov, I can assure you that your daughter's safety is my number one priority," she began to explain but her rushed and worried explanation buzzed out in my ears.

I'd just called her my daughter, hadn't I? Without even thinking about it. It had felt so right to say, and the fire that was still burning in my limbs to seek out these bullies and destroy them was only heightening it. I would protect her as fiercely as I loved her and there wasn't a single person, no matter their age or experience, that was going to stop me. That was the only silver lining of owning all this power and prestige - wielding it when necessary. And this was absolutely fucking necessary.

"I expect a detailed report to my office on your solutions to the numerous grievances we've endured here," I waved her off. Bright spots of color flushed her cheeks at my callousness. I turned to head out. "I'm here for Anya and only Anya."

"I w...was hoping to introduce," she replied, moving into a shade of crimson now.

I frowned at her and turned on my heel saying over my shoulder as I left, "you get four introductions."

"Thank you," she called after me.

I opened the door, took a breath to reset, and then smiled genuinely as a blur of blonde and purple sparkles raced down the hall toward me,

"Avery!"

* * *

The children had been dismissed long ago, their projects and accomplishments put away to make way for the appetizers and hard alcohol freely pouring into seemingly bottomless glasses. I'd been escorted around the party by a still panicking headmistress - a patron there, a chancellor here. I think there was a Prime Minister, maybe a celebrity - it was all blending and I needed a drink. When I'd finally been able to break free toward a more secluded corner of the party I heard a bubble of laughter right outside the double doors followed by,

"Well I heard she was living in a one-bedroom apartment, and all they can eat in Russia is cabbage soup, so she was so malnutritioned that's what the scars are for."

_Bingo._ There was no way this couldn't be her bullies. Anya herself had told me she was the only one that spoke Russian at this awful place. This also meant that they were little Circle bitches - because everyone outside the Circle thought they were shipping heirs. I squeezed my tumbler harder in my fist and took a breath so I didn't just start swinging at children. Maybe these girls were just twittering low-level Circle idiots. What she'd said was so stupid it didn't even make sense.

It had taken me almost five different schools before I'd been able to figure out the difference between a click of girls that just told mean rumors to each other and the queen bees that told mean rumors to the rest of the school. The latter always did it in hallways and low tones so anyone around them could hear, the queens were out to destroy you, the clicks were pathetically lonely.

"Sophia that doesn't even make sense. Everyone knows she has those scars because her mother threw acid in her face as soon as she saw how ugly she was."

I took three clicking steps out into the hallway, the sound of my shoes echoing down the empty stone walls, unable to stop the mean smirk on my face. I was going to destroy them. Two of the girls whipped around, startled and then terrified as they saw who it was. The final girl - the leader I was assuming - slowly spun around giving me the once over.

"Excuse you," she drawled in a slight accent I couldn't place.

"Gretta don't," one of the girls harshly hissed at her. Gretta eyed her friend and then looked at me again, the realization slowly dawning on her face.

"I'm Avery," I smiled at them, they instinctively moved closer to each other, "Korolov."

"She talks too much," one of the girls immediately blurted. "I'm sorry."

"Who are all of you?" I dipped my finger in my drink and swirled the limes around before flicking the moisture to the ground. Their eyes darted to my drink and then to my face and then to each other.

"Sophia Hernan. I'm a cousin of the Koning's." She blinked a few times and took a shaky breath.

"Xi Ling. I'm a cousin of the Mikado's." She gave me a small bow, I raised my eyebrow and then narrowed my focus onto Gretta. I took a drink and then nodded toward her,

"Gretta. That sounds German. Are you related to the Hersh's?"

"Yes. Second cousins," she quietly answered. The girls all fidgeted in front of me. Inside the hall you could hear the guests getting a little worked up, the laughs louder, the glasses clinking. I took a step toward them all and then held out my glass to Gretta.

"Have a sip, it's a party."

Sophia and Xi both started shaking their heads, their faces going pale in fear. To her credit Gretta kept her poker face, she'd probably been a queen bee for years now. She shook her head,

"No thank you," she quietly said.

"It wasn't an offer," I flatly replied, the ice clinking in the glass. Her hands trembled as she grabbed it from my own. She swallowed hard, looked up at me again, unsure and terrified. The vengeance pulsed in me, burning out all the monotony and agony I'd been feeling for days. What was the point of being so powerful if I could never use it?

Gretta took the smallest sip of the vodka, her face pinching at the bitter bite of alcohol and I snatched the glass out of her hand, the booze splashing onto her uniform,

"I'll be sure to tell your uncles that you say hello." I entoned and then brushed past them on my way toward the front. They jumped back, away from me, mumbles of 'Your Majesty' in my wake.

* * *

I fell asleep in the car. The drinks and my rage had mixed wrong in my empty stomach and sleep was the only way to combat it. Luckily it was a good hour-long ride in all the traffic so by the time we parked I just felt slightly disoriented. I shook out the cobwebs and then sucked in a startled breath at the cold air that hit me as soon as the door opened. The driver gave me his arm to steady myself and then I slowly clicked in to the house. According to my phone, I still had a debrief with Gemma for the visit from Michiyo and her new baby, dinner reservations and five missed calls from Stellan.

I paused in the entryway, let my hands flop down to my sides and looked up into the chandelier before lowly growling,

"Fuck."

Gemma was on top of me before I could start to wallow in what was sure to be an explosive fight with Stellan. We started moving through the house, her rapid-fire questions met with my one-word answers. The booze started to burn in my sore limbs, maybe I wasn't as sober as I thought.

I started walking faster through the house, I was trying to lock myself away in my office or the bedroom before he could find me. Gemma followed me like a duckling, firing more trivial things at me: the gold plated flatware or the heritage sterling silver, the china from their last visit or the new wedding set, sake from the local vendor or flown in. My head started to split. Why did I have to answer all these questions? I think the only thing the Mikado's were going to be remembering when they saw me was how their son looked while he was bleeding out in my arms.

"Gemma," I started gently and then almost hit my knees as I ground out between my teeth, "fucking Christ."

My arm was going to explode. I sucked in a shallow breath, slapping my right hand around my agony and Gemma stuttered to a stop giving a quick bow. I looked over at her, confused, and then I saw him stalk into the hallway. He was radiating anger, I could almost see it coming off him and stabbing directly into my scar. The booze swelled in my tender stomach. So I was definitely still drunk - lovely.

"Excuse me, Gemma, I need to speak to my wife." He snapped and then brushed past me into the formal dining room. Gemma disappeared and I swallowed hard and then followed him in, closing the door behind me. We both took a few breaths to try and settle and finally my arm relented as he shook his fists out, his back still to me.

"Can I at least," I started to say and he whirled on me.

"No," he barked. I flinched and snapped my mouth shut, the last time he'd been this mad he'd murdered that Order member in Prada. He paced the room, put a hand through his hair and then took a settling breath and faced me again.

"I just," I tried to start again, rubbing at the aching still thumping down my arm and his eyes blazed at me.

"No. Just no. I don't want to hear all your lies. I don't want to hear all your justifications. Anya called me sobbing because you threatened some thirteen year old at the reception and now the whole school thinks she's dangerous."

"That little bitch had it coming," I snapped at him. "She'd been bullying Anya at school. I heard her say this awful thing about her…"

"This was not your fight." He broke in.

"Not my," I broke off, glaring at him. "Of course it's my fight! These girls are from Circle families. I'm going to protect her! She's important to me."

He clenched his jaw, his eyes softening a bit but the rest of him still thrumming with rage. "Regardless of how you feel it was not your place. It was beneath you, you are too old to be doing something so catty, and more importantly, it is not what Anya wanted."

"Too old?! I'm the same age as some of those girls!" I yelled and then tried to settle. "Bullies only respond to strength, she is too young to be dealing with harassment from someone that old."

"And you fighting her battles for her is going to teach her strength how exactly?" He crossed his arms. "Plus she now has to deal with the added pressure that anyone who didn't know exactly who she was is now acutely aware of the fact that she's connected to you. Who, depending on the student, will think of you as a celebrity or a walking death threat."

"You are overreacting," I snapped. We both let out a huff of pain as I squeezed my arm and he shook out his hands.

"Am I?" He shouted. "Think before you do shit, Avery! Now we have to smooth things over with the Hersh's as well."

"No, we don't! Who cares? No one should be in our favor, they are under us now." I yelled back.

"That's not how that works!" He growled. "It's like you're not even trying."

"I'm not trying!" I screamed at him. "I'm the one that showed up for Anya, where were you? This wasn't part of our deal. That wasn't part of my destiny. I didn't sign up for this!"

"Yes, you did." He lowly countered, making all my screaming seem hysterical. Maybe I was hysterical. Maybe I'd finally broken. All I felt was rage and bitter defeat at what my life had become. And pain, so much pain.

"The mandate said I just had to form a union with you. The mandate said you would get all the power. I do not give a shit about all this Circle nonsense. I can't. I won't."

"Then why the fuck did you change everything?" He threw his hands out toward me, his accent growing thicker the more upset he got. "Why did you eliminate the patriarchal system of the Circle? Why did you make this a monarchy? Why bother empowering all the powerless in their system if you don't give a shit? If you want me to lock you in a wing of this house and fuck you once a year to make some children why don't we just start now?"

"Fuck you!" I spat at him. And before I even registered it happening my open palm cracked across his face with a resounding slap. He stood there pressing his lips together as my handprint blossomed on his cheek. My scar ignited with burning pain, making the rage crescendo inside me at his control. I threw my phone at him. It hit him square in the chest. It clattered to the floor unacknowledged by him. He flexed the fingers on both his hands out as far as they could go and I could have sworn I saw a flash of something, but then he snatched them back into tight fists. Finally, he took a slow, measured, breath before snapping at me,

"There is only so much heavy lifting I can keep doing for you. You have to start pulling your weight."

"Like you could make me," I seethed.

He closed the space between us and I tried not to shrink back from him - his presence commanding and his anger so palpable my arm slid right back into absolute agony. I could feel the static electricity building between the two of us - all the hairs on my arms stood on end. His voice was soft and dangerous and a shiver of fear raced down my spine as he said,

"I can and I will. Grow up. And fix this with Anya."

He turned and stormed away from me, but right before he made it to the door I found my voice again and said,

"I can't. I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

He halted, balled his fists and inclined his head towards me,

"No, you're not."

"It's that fucking summit in Paris. Part of all my heavy lifting." I sneered at him and reached down to pick up my phone, the edges of the screen shattered.

"Then you better plan for some time with Anya before you leave." He looked at his phone, punching things into the screen. "I just cleared your evening for you."

My phone buzzed in my hand and I looked down to see:

_Birthday Dinner - Canceled_

It crystallized immediately in my mind. The nagging thing I'd been trying to remember all day. It was his birthday today. When I looked back up, he was gone. So was all my debilitating pain. I grabbed the ornate table setting next to me and hurled it at the ground. The china spread wide and I pressed my hands over my mouth to mute my scream that quickly turned into a sob.

What was wrong with me? I had never been okay with domestic violence and yet my hand was still stinging. It's like he'd flipped some switch inside me and all I could give him now was vitriol and venom. When all I wanted was for him to erase all this blackness from inside me like he used to, like I desperately needed him to. I couldn't recognize myself anymore.

Behind me, a door opened and I heard someone already starting to sweep up the pieces. I shuddered with misery and then left them to deal with my mess. I had no idea which direction Stellan went in and was very tempted to just hunt down a driver and leave - but Anya. She was only going to be here this weekend, and I wasn't going to have another chance to speak with her until the Leap Year Ball. I hadn't embarrassed the headmistress of St. Lucia's and terrorized a bitchy pre-teen to back out now. I would do anything for her - even if it meant humbling myself. It would have to be tonight. Especially if I didn't have to go to dinner anymore.

I'd apologize to her and then get the fuck out of here. I hadn't realized I wandered to the front of our wing, and the Saxon guard keeping watch outside it. I had no idea when that had started, I didn't want to ask.

"Can you please let them know I'm leaving tonight instead? Get the chopper ready," I said as I opened the door.

"Ma'am," he nodded and touched his ear. With that taken care of, I made my way toward Anya's room next.

I paused, took a breath and then knocked, "can I come in Anya?"

I heard her shuffling things around and after a moment,

"Okay."

I turned the handle and closed the door behind me. A month ago her room had been the pinkest thing I'd ever seen. Now it was brilliantly purple, only her pink comforter remaining. I marveled at it for a moment and she sighed,

"I told Gemma I wanted some purple. I must have said it wrong."

"They mean well," I shrugged and took a step toward her. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." She looked down at her hands.

"No, it's not." I swallowed hard. "I upset you, greatly, and I'm sorry. That wasn't what you wanted and I should respect your wishes."

"It's fine," she shrugged and leaned back in her chair giving me a weak smile.

"I won't do it again. And I can stop going to the school if that would make it easier for you." I continued. "I just remember how that feels."

"You had mean girls at your school?" She looked up at me now and I nodded.

"Every school. All twelve of them."

"What did they do to you?" She crossed her arms over her chest and I saw a flash of the chain on my locket under her sweater. I hadn't seen my locket in a while now. A sharp longing to wear it again filled me but I pushed it back down.

"Locked me in bathrooms. Said mean things about me. Threw food at me at lunchtime. Stole my backpack. Got me in trouble with teachers…" I stopped because her eyes had gone wide with shock. "Girls are mean." I meekly finished.

"What did you do?" She released her arms and leaned forward.

"Most of the time I ignored them because I knew I would move. But that's not a good way to deal with bullies."

"I know," Anya nodded. "Stellan told me to ignore her but it kept getting worse. That's why it's okay." She smiled.

"What do you mean?" I moved over to sit on her bed, she swiveled her chair in my direction.

"She's mean to everyone! But today...today she's the one that got in trouble. She's suspended for being near the party and drinking."

Inwardly I cringed, that wasn't fair to the girl. I'd made her smell like vodka. I nodded for Anya to continue anyway.

"At first I was very upset. It was embarrassing for me to have you do that. But then all these other girls in the school started telling me the mean things she'd said about them. They were glad. They were glad someone had finally stood up to her."

I paused. I had, effectively, caused another scenario that Stellan might not have thought about. You dethrone one queen and another will rise.

"Anya, you remember what I told you when you started this school right?"

"Be kind to everyone, but don't trust them." She recited.

"You have to be kind to Gretta. I know it feels good now, and everyone is happy that she got in trouble," I stopped to make sure she was listening. "But if you are mean to her now - you are just as bad as her. It is beneath you to be mean."

I forced myself not to close my eyes in frustration. Echoes of Stellan's angry words flung to the forefront of my mind. I shoved them away, I could pick that all apart later when I wasn't still visualizing stabbing him if he crossed my path.

"Because I'm a princess?" She quietly asked.

"I…I..." I stammered. I hated being called a Queen. It felt wrong. It didn't work in this present world anymore. Yet, people loved to call me it. I didn't want Anya to get an inflated ego off that title. "You know that title doesn't matter. You won't be mean to her because you are a Korolov."

"Okay." She nodded. I stood up from her bed, straightening my dress.

"Are we good now?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in hope.

"In Russian!" She scolded me and I rolled my eyes and repeated it back to her. She smiled back. "Yes."

"Okay, I'll see you at the Leap Year Ball then. I leave for Paris tonight." I started toward the door.

"You're not staying for dinner?" She asked rising from her chair. I froze.

"No." I tried not to frown.

"But it's his birthday dinner!" She moved toward me, her skirt swishing around her knees when she stopped in front of me.

"That's your thing with him. I don't want to impose on such a special tradition." I tried to sound nonchalant, but my throat was already closing up with tears.

"He asked me if it was okay if you joined us. It seemed really important to him." She beseeched me. "You were supposed to leave tomorrow morning."

"My plans changed," I choked.

"So change them again." She argued and then her face lit with recognition, "this is because of your fight."

"What are you…" the rising wave of tears froze at that comment. I didn't know she'd been close enough to hear that.

"Everyone heard you. You two were screaming at each other." She quietly added.

"He doesn't want me there Anya. You go. Have fun. Or do something different, just the two of you." I swallowed hard. Her face fell. I started to leave and she put a hand on my arm.

"You're my family. It was just one fight." She squeezed my arm. I bit my lip so I wouldn't cry and then nodded. If she only knew. But I didn't want her to. I didn't want her to know how miserable I'd been and how desperate things had become. That wasn't fair to her. And I hadn't written her into my will and put up all these safeguards to protect her from this cruel, ugly world we'd forced her to live in just to rip them away because of what Stellan had done. I would always protect her, even if it was from myself.

She tugged my arm and we started down the hall toward the dining room. She started chatting away as we moved, filling me in on the details of Gretta's suspension. Apparently, Gretta had cried in the bathroom and when her friends tried to console her she lashed out at them. They promptly joined with the rest of the school in being gleeful at her misfortune.

"Just remember what we agreed on," I intoned as we moved through the living room. "Otherwise you'll be the next girl everyone is gossiping about."

"Of course!" She dramatically sighed and rolled her eyes skipping in front of me a little. Stellan yelled out something in Russian to Anya from the kitchen but I couldn't tell what he'd said.

Then we all entered the dining room at the same time, Stellan holding a pot of something, frozen in the kitchen door jamb. Myself, arms wrapped defensively around my still aching chest at the dining room door jamb. And Anya between us at the table, throwing her arms out toward me, like I was a surprise, and yelling,

"Happy Birthday!"

He set the pot down with a thud on the table and crossed his arms. Anya looked between us nervously, not expecting the stony reaction from him. I ducked my head and turned to go.

"I'll leave," I said and took a shaky breath.

"Stay," he commanded and then rubbed at his still slightly pink cheek before slipping back into the kitchen. Anya grabbed my arm again and drug me to one of the chairs sliding a table setting toward me. My heart sank, there were only two. I wasn't supposed to be here.

"I really should go," I whispered to her. Anya shook her head and patted the chair. Then she dug around inside the cabinets until she could piece together her own mismatched table setting. She sat at the head of the table, placing her utensils and then leaned over to see what was in the pot. She called out to him asking about the food, at least I think she did. I dug my fingers into my arms trying not to flee. Everything in me was telling me to run.

He appeared from the kitchen again this time with bread and some kind of veggie dish. I thought I was going to barf. My nerves were at an all-time high. Anya clapped, praising him in Russian and I took in a small breath trying to calm the panic. They started serving the food to all our plates and then sat down and smiled at each other for a small moment.

This was obviously another tradition between them and I felt even worse. I was intruding on something so sacred. This was a mistake. I pushed my plate away a little and moved to stand.

"Sit," he lowly ordered, the happy mood shifted. Anya looked between us a few times and then stared down at her plate. I sat back in my chair and started to push the food around. There was no way I'd be able to eat it.

"Where was the best place you went this year?" Anya cautiously asked.

"Mexico was nice." He smiled at her. She laughed and then said,

"It's so different now. I know all these things. Maybe we should start a new tradition?"

"Whatever you want _lyubov' moya_," he answered and took a bite. She turned to me,

"What do you do for your birthday?"

Stellan kept eating, his head down, so I took a small breath trying to remember in my panicked mind,

"I got to stay home from school and do whatever I wanted. Sometimes that meant going somewhere fun most of the time I stayed home with my mom. And then she'd bake me a cake."

"That part I knew." Anya smiled at me and started in on her dinner. My phone buzzed in my sweater pocket but I ignored it. "We should do something fun this weekend."

"I'm sure you two will have a great time." I countered and pushed my food around again.

"I thought you were going to cancel your plans. We could do something tonight." Anya pushed. I looked down at my plate. She knew better, I'd already explained this to her. I wanted to appreciate how effortlessly she'd tried to manipulate the situation but there was no way. My lungs felt like they were shaking inside me from all the crescendoing emotions I was holding back.

"Anya," Stellan warned.

"But it's your birthday! And we are all together as a family. You told me this is what you wanted. But both of you look sad." Her whole body started to curl inward the more upset she got. She abandoned her dinner and sat back in her chair.

"This is fine. I am happy." He grumbled to his food and then his whole face dropped in disappointment. My heart ached in my chest, contracting what little air I had left out in a pained huff.

"You're a liar," she pouted and pushed her plate away, making the glass wobble on the table. I reached out and grabbed it and we both warned at the same time,

"Be careful."

I looked up at Stellan across the table and my whole body flushed with terror. None of this felt right. Staying here with them. Leaving them tonight. And both scenarios were wrong for such wildly different reasons I thought my brain might snap in half. Weeks and weeks we'd outright ignored each other - this was the moment to try and work through this, figure out how to salvage what we had left. My silence filled the room like a wild animal, everyone frozen, waiting to see what to do next. Even myself. It pinched my stomach and made this swooning wave of panic rush through my chest and up to my throat. He parted his lips to say something when a Saxon security guard moved into the room.

"The chopper is ready Ma'am," he bowed his head and quickly left. Stellan's shoulders dropped with misery, Anya looked up at me with puppy dog eyes as I stood. I couldn't do it. Not in front of her. I needed more time.

"Wait," Anya blurted, and jumped from her seat rushing to the other end of the table, filled with presents. She grabbed a small box wrapped in white paper with a giant orange bow. "At least open your present from Avery."

I had been hoping I wasn't here for this despite how much effort I put into this present. The idea that had struck me months ago when I'd seen the brief from the Order that they were digging around in Stellan and Anya's home town again. This inkling I'd gotten that there had to be something left for him. Then the secret tasks I'd given Elodie to hunt it down. And there had only been one thing. A watch. Those had all been decisions pre-Maldives Avery had made. Now I had no idea how this was going to land. A part of me was hoping he'd think it was something ridiculous and toss it. But I couldn't let him do that. I forced myself to choke out,

"I had Elodie work with the Order to…" I trailed off, unsure I'd even be able to get the words out over the ball of tears in my throat. "This belonged to your father."

Anya audibly gasped, darting over to his side to watch his trembling hands slowly rip through all the paper. It wasn't anything flashy. Just a simple black leather band with a gold face. But it was priceless. Anya's small fingers carefully pulled it into her own hands and Stellan's eyes met mine over the table - glassy and devastated, his mouth a thin line on his face. This was exactly why I didn't want to be here for this. It wasn't meant to be a manipulation, but now it seemed like one.

I sniffled, the tears now threatening my eyes as well and stood. Managing the best smile I could I quietly said, "Happy Birthday."

Then I turned and fled.


	31. Chapter 30

"_Ma reine_," Luc's voice called out to me from down the hall, "you have impeccable timing. Ten minutes later and I would have left for..._merde_, what happened?"

He stopped right in front of me and I let out this pathetic sound as I attempted to hold back a sob. He was in a tux, jacket hanging artfully from his right arm, and shoes shining as shock filtered across his face.

"I'll go," I croaked.

"Absolutely not!" He ordered and tossed his jacket at one of his security detail, while simultaneously snapping orders at them.

"I'm sorry," I sniffled and rubbed the sleeve of my jacket across my face, trying to stop my running nose.

"Is anyone dead? Hurt? Wait...where is everyone?" He looked around me and then realization dawned on his face, "so the birthday party didn't go so well?"

I couldn't hold back the tears any longer and Luc pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it over. Of course, he would have remembered it was Stellan's birthday. I shouldn't have come here. But I didn't know where else to go. My life was so rigidly routine I went to my next designated spot even when I was distraught. Didn't I own like five other houses? God, I was a mess.

With a few soothing words, he coaxed me down the hall toward one of the spare bedrooms and then closed the door behind himself to give us some privacy. Glancing at his watch, he crossed the room and stood in front of me as I perched on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry, please don't cancel your night because of me."

"I'm not going to leave you here alone, Avery," he consoled. "But I also can't stay…"

He trailed off and I buried my hands in my face as another wave of tears threatened to break through my momentary control.

"God," I groaned, "don't make me come with you."

"You really want to stay here? Of all places? With my family lurking around?" He asked, incredulous.

"No," I sighed.

"It will be fun, you won't have to talk to anyone because it will all be in French, and you can just drink until we leave. And then I'll take you to my house in Rueil-Malmaison, away from all this."

"Can't you just have someone take me to the house now?" I begged.

"You know I would," he reached forward and squeezed my shoulder, "but...even Jack didn't come with you?"

"I fled the scene." I shook my head and stood. "I'll just go."

"Where?" Luc shook his head and pulled me against his side with an arm around my waist. "Be my date, I'll keep you distracted. It's bizarre avant-garde art and micro gastronomy with a bunch of people too old to understand it."

"I don't know if I can even pretend to care, Luc." I turned to face him, frowning. But he just smiled in return,

"Then you'll fit the part perfectly."

* * *

This was decidedly weird. All the food was in test tubes and on dry ice. It filled the floor of the ballroom with this smoky haze that swooshed around all the couture, making it seem like we were all trapped in some mad scientists lab. The art, if you could even call it that, was just blobs of what looked like slime with random objects inside them, suspended inside oblong glass sculptures. How, exactly, were marbles and jacks inside see-through goo art? After the tenth person had asked me what I thought about it in French I'd found a dark corner of the bar and stayed there. At least Luc hadn't made me squeeze into a corset. But I hadn't escaped a gown - and a dramatic merlot colored one at that.

Unfortunately, the longer I was trapped here the more claustrophobic it was becoming. A light dusting of snow had forced everyone to stay inside, despite the tables and chairs on the giant outdoor balcony. It was stuffy and loud and I could only watch Luc glad-handing people for so much longer before I was just going to ditch everyone - security detail be damned. More couples in sequins and bow ties pressed into the small space around the bar and a flash of panic filled my chest. I had to get out of here. I made a break for the balcony.

With the very first step outside the hit of cold air sucked the panic right out of my lungs. I took a deep breath of the clean, crisp air and moved further out, away from all the noise. My heels crunched the snowflakes as I made my way to the edge. Peeking out over the stone baluster the traffic below me was stopped at a red light - everything shiny and glittering from the ice. The door slowly closed behind me and for a single, glorious, moment I was actually all alone. I closed my eyes and tried to just relax into the sound of traffic, muted laughs, and wind as the storm continued to lazily make its way through the city. And then there was a cough and I turned around and came face to face with Jack, in a tux, leaning casually against the wall. All the relief I felt at slipping away from the party was doused with a wave of anger. I crossed my arms and leaned against the baluster, the cold seeping into the back of my dress.

"He sent you didn't he?" I snapped.

"No," he gave me a confused look. "You sent me by leaving."

"What does that even mean?" I heaved.

"That was the deal we made. Almost a year ago now, at Colette's villa. I was Anya's Keeper unless he could watch her. Then I became yours." He shrugged. "He never told you?"

I looked away at Paris spreading out before me, the Eiffel Tower running its light show in the distance. I shook my head.

"So are you here to protect me from this ugly art? Or make sure I don't run away?" I asked without looking back. My breath broke from my mouth in small little clouds that were sucked out into the city.

"Are you going to run?" He quietly asked. I shrugged and then turned to level a challenging stare at him. Jack pushed off from the wall and came next to me. He was close enough that I could feel his body heat but not enough to be touching each other. He leaned against the railing as well and we watched the last of the light show at the Eiffel Tower together, in perfect silence. The knot of anger that had been tightening in my chest slowly unraveled and all I felt was exhausted.

It was surreal. Jack and I, dressed up, together, in Paris. This is where it had all started, and look at where we were now. We didn't have moments like this between us anymore. We certainly didn't talk about our past, and honestly, I didn't want to. I didn't exactly long for who he used to be, I liked this version of Jack - beard and all. But I ached to remember who I was, she just kept slipping further and further away from me. I should have run when I had the chance.

"Kinda reminds you of the theater room at Lakehaven, right?" I lowly asked. Jack let out a little laugh of recognition behind me, and then the two of us went quiet again. Light show over and the cold starting to make me shiver I turned to Jack, curious, and asked,

"Why didn't you leave? After I shut down the Keeper program? You and Elodie could have escaped into the sunset together."

I looked back at the party, everyone drinking and laughing. Jack let out a deep sigh, his breath clouding over my view and said,

"It's all I know, Avery. And you four are all I have left."

Tears filled my eyes, stinging and hot against the freezing breeze that swept through the balcony. We were all he had left because I'd killed everyone else. I shook, cold and miserable and Jack shrugged out of his tux jacket, tossing it over my bare shoulders despite my sniffling protest of,

"I really don't deserve it."

"Nonsense," he chastised me, rubbing his hands together quickly to warm them up. "Things are immeasurably better than they were before you appeared. I might not always agree with everything we're doing but some sacrifices are always made for the greater good."

Wiping away some freezing tears from my cheek I croaked, "what sacrifices?"

Jack turned toward me, this angry bewilderment across his face that I didn't understand. "He still hasn't told you?"

"No," I whispered, shrinking a little away from him and the angry huff he let out. It broke across his head as he shook it, grumbling things I couldn't quite catch and then took a deep breath. I shivered again, pulling his jacket closer around me.

"Elodie murdered David Melech. While we were in Mexico."

The world around me started to fuzz out, distorting the roaring traffic below me, blurring the gentle snow that had begun to fall and I leaned hard against the ledge. Jack's warm hand wrapped around my arm, steadying me and I looked up into his face, stunned,

"Poison?"

He pressed his lips together and I wanted to scream. _No. No, please don't say…_

"Blood."

"What possessed her to think that," I started to say when he squeezed my arm hard and cut over me with,

"He gave her the order, Avery."

My hands flew to my face and I pressed them hard into my frozen nose and chapped lips. Jack dropped his hand and started rambling,

"I tried to talk them out of it. Too heavy-handed. They have too much Dauphin in them. I understand the need to make a statement but that…"

"Stop," I growled at him through my hands. I had to think. My brain was splintering out into hundreds of directions with thousands of clues. This was the real reason Elodie hadn't gone to Mexico. It explained Jack's whole mood at the ice skating date night. Even why that bitchy Hersh pre-teen had been terrified of taking a sip from my drink. It had absolutely nothing to do with everything I'd accomplished and worked toward - it was because everyone thought I was a sociopath. Who else would kill the head of a Family in the exact same way her mother had been murdered?

Jack fidgeted next to me as I slowly and calmly said, "I want to leave."

He started rubbing his compass over his dress shirt, shivering a bit as the snow continued to dust us. The door for the balcony swung open to reveal Luc,

"There you are! I should have known Jackie would find you."

"How'd you know I was here?" Jack crossed his arms over his chest, shrugging into himself.

Luc snorted, "_comme Stellan la laisserait sans protection._"

The rage ignited inside me at the sound of his name. I tried to contain it. I couldn't cause a scene at this stupid event in front of all these ridiculous strangers. Luc and Jack were rapping back in forth in rapid-fire French and I loudly ground out,

"Now. I want to leave. Right now."

They froze, I blinked off some melting snowflakes and Luc turned to Jack and asked, "how'd you get here?"

Jack immediately pulled out his phone and started texting, and then the three of us skirted along the slippery wrap around balcony and escaped out a service door, no one noticing.

* * *

We bumped along the cobblestone road, I was sandwiched between Jack and Luc in the town car. My dress' skirt was so huge it was spilling over the two of them covering their tux pants with its dark crimson satin. It was going to take at least a half-hour to get to Luc's château, more like an hour with the snow, and I'd promptly fallen asleep with my head against Luc's shoulder. But when we'd hit a large bump I'd become somewhat conscious again. At least enough to know we were still moving and I didn't want to talk to either of them. I kept my eyes closed, and leveled out my breathing right as Jack whispered,

"Oh, she was furious. Told him to fuck off. She's never even raised her voice to Stellan." Then he finished with an incredulous, "she slapped him."

Luc let out a noise of disbelief and then whispered back,

"What did he do?"

"If I heard it right from housekeeping and security he might have threatened her. She broke a bunch of priceless china and then changed her plans to come tonight instead." Jack shifted next to me, and I kept my breath slow and even.

"Oh, brutal. On his birthday of all days. And he threatened her?" Luc whispered, confused. "About what?"

"Am I the only one that sees this? They completely enable each other."

"Jackie, please..." Luc tried to dismiss him. Jack barreled on.

"It's complete fantasy fulfillment, they feed each other's weaknesses. Pretending like they can just play house and ignore everything else we still have to do. Most of the time no one would care - but we don't have that luxury, do we?"

"I think what has been most surprising for me is him getting so lost in this adjustment period. We all expected it from Avery." Luc locked his phone and slid it into his pocket, jostling my head. I tried to remain limp.

"Right, but it's not taking. We all let this go too far. I knew I should have forced his hand. I can only implore him so many times." Jack stopped, thinking and then added pensively, "something happened in the Maldives."

"Other than booze and Molly?" Luc supplied with a small laugh.

"Christ." Jack shifted, uncomfortably next to me. "It's like his bloody kryptonite. The moment she gets drunk he loses all cognitive thinking skills."

"You're being too harsh. You went right back to being a Keeper, but this is all new for them."

"Of course. But his patience over the adjustment period is over. We've given her ample time and we can't keep covering this up. She has to fall in line. I'd put money on that being his threat." Jack trailed off.

"But why threaten her? It seems so counterproductive." Luc let out a disappointed sigh. I tried not to shift as the car slowed.

"Maybe he was trying to trigger her?"

"Trigger her, what do you mean?"

"Her traumatic brain injury," Jack offered and Luc inhaled sharply. I was just as shocked as Luc that Jack had pieced it together. "From the tomb. I haven't puzzled all that out yet, but he has this way he says her name sometimes...that's what tipped me off."

"How?"

"It's like a warning. Like she's about to explode." Jack offered and then seemed to shrug next to me, "I don't pretend to know what's between them, Luc."

"_Non_. You've had plenty to provide to this conversation. You must know everything going on between them."

"I know enough to keep us all alive. I know everything they do, everywhere they go, I know he hasn't been sleeping in the same room as her."

"No," Luc hissed. "When did that start happening?"

"A few days ago. And he makes the bed every morning like I wouldn't figure it out. He doesn't talk to me about things like that anymore. He can't. It would cross a line. There are so many things only they know about each other now. Especially after whatever happened in that tomb." Jack answered and then shifted next to me.

"You still have no idea?" Luc whispered toward him. "It took a half a bottle of gin to get very little out of Elodie. She said Avery was dead, Stellan was dying and there was so much blood. She's buried that one deep."

"I can still hear the way she screamed my name," Jack darkly replied.

Jack went quiet and Luc let out a long noise of contemplation. I tried to fall back asleep, hoping the silence and the rhythmic thump of the tires would be enough to relax me. But after ten minutes of pretending I couldn't take it anymore and sat up, right as the driver parked.

* * *

The next morning I helped Luc pull off all the white sheets covering the furniture in his conservatory. He insisted that we have brunch there instead of the 'gloomy' kitchen. It faced out to the Seine and the rose garden in his backyard. If you could really call acres of ridiculously expensive property backyard.

"I haven't been here in years," he coughed swatting at all the dust flying into the air.

"God, why not?" I asked marveling at the way everything was sparkling from the light dusting of snow that still clung to the landscaping and sculptures outside.

Luc yanked the final sheet off with a flourish to reveal a long, mahogany-colored leather couch. The draft of it made me shiver, despite all the sunshine. I wrapped my arms tighter around the baggy sweater Luc had managed to find for me. It was a cable knit yellow wool that was slightly scratchy and clashed horribly with the light blue track pants he'd also wrangled.

"Busy I suppose," he shrugged.

I moved toward the floor to ceiling windows, mesmerized by the river and sighed, "if this was my house I would have found the time."

Luc laughed to himself and then flopped onto the couch behind me. I joined suit and closed my eyes, relishing the quiet. There was no one but the three of us in this house and I'd realized since I woke up this morning that I missed that part of my life. Sure, I had been bored for most of it, but the afternoons and evenings that I had spent alone with just my thoughts, on that tan couch we lugged to every state, seemed invaluable to me now. Thankfully Luc had seemed to need it to, or maybe he was just working up the nerve to start questioning me. How could he not after all of Jack's gossip last night? But I was going to need coffee before I deflected all that.

"Anyone hungry?" Jack's voice broke up the silence and we turned around to see him holding a cup holder with three steaming cups of coffee and a bag of something. I was really hoping it was pastries. He sat on the other side of me, the three of us now looking out onto the grounds, and passed over a cup, "cream and an ungodly amount of sugar."

"You remembered," I smirked at him as he passed the other paper cup over to Luc. He ignored my comment and instead ripped open the brown paper bag on the coffee table in front of us to reveal half a dozen delicious and delicate looking pastries.

I dove for the chocolate croissant before they could snatch it and inhaled deeply with the first bite. I never wanted to leave now. This could be my new home right? I could just steal it from Luc and hide here forever.

"I think you will be happy to know _cherie_, that I've already canceled your itinerary for today," Luc announced and then took a long sip.

"You're the best," I smiled at him, "I was trying to mentally prepare myself to deal with Circle suck-ups and pushy reporters for the rest of the day."

"I figured you weren't in the right mental state to do your public persona any favors," Luc smirked, grabbing a pastry for himself.

"I would have tried," I said after swallowing a giant bite of food. Then tacked on, "and probably failed."

Jack laughed, shaking the couch next to me until his phone started buzzing against the leather. Pulling it out of his pocket he glanced at the screen and the smile dropped off his face,

"What's wrong?"

Luc and I both stilled, Jack frowned and then said, "no, she's right here with me."

The room dipped into silence again and I heard Stellan's voice on the other end of the line. Beside me, Luc was already flicking through things on his phone, his frown deepening the longer he looked. Jack held out the phone to me, I shook my head, he gave me a patronizing look and I glared back but grabbed it,

"What?" I snapped.

"Good." He snapped back and hung up. I glared at the phone and then tossed it back to Jack and forced a burning gulp of coffee down.

"There was a botched attempt at the event last night. It seems it happened after we left." Jack explained. Luc piped in on the other side,

"I told Christian not to mix company, but he never listens to me."

"I better go debrief on this." Jack stood and left with his coffee.

"So…" Luc cautiously started, "can I just outright ask you what happened yesterday? Or will I need to pry it out of your drunken sobbing later?"

I shoved the rest of my croissant into my mouth to stall. Luc rose an eyebrow in intrigue and waited, patiently sipping his coffee and detailing me. What did I tell him? What did I keep back? I had been ready to unload all of this onto Colette because she could be the most impartial judge I had. It wouldn't be the same with Luc. And now there was the added complexity of what Jack had let slip on the balcony. Lies, secrets, manipulations, commands, orders - all of these things had been happening behind my back. Wrapped in pretty boxes and hidden from me to ensure I kept having the perfect attitude and reaction with every move I made.

Honestly, I felt used and naive, and absolutely furious. But did I tell Luc that? Where exactly did I draw the line of loyalty to Stellan? Or had I already tip-toed over it by coming here in the first place?

"My father tried to stop me from picking Stellan as my Keeper," Luc quietly started. "Apparently he'd tried to escape several times in the first couple of weeks after he arrived. As soon as he was well enough to try of course."

"What do you mean?" I eyed him cautiously.

"30 percent of his body had been burned in a fire. Damaged goods. Usually, they just kill the children that try to escape." He looked down at his hands, slowly spinning his coffee cup. The air froze in my chest. "I suppose they were feeling an unprecedented moment of mercy for him."

"Why are you telling me this?" I whispered.

"Because he didn't want it either." He replied, locking sad, purple eyes with my own. "That's the bond between you two."

"No," I shook my head and looked out toward the Seine. "Not anymore."

"People change," he gently said.

I frowned, "only circumstances do."

"What were you going to do, Avery? Run away?"

"Maybe," I huffed, digging deeper into the couch, still refusing to make eye contact with him.

"Where were you going to go?" He pushed.

"Mexico? Indonesia? Alaska?" I answered and Luc already started shaking his head.

"You might be able to figure out how to live, but you would have a steep learning curve on how to protect yourself. Then you'd also have to figure out how to slip the Circle the entire time, which is next to impossible." Luc tried to reason.

"But it can be done. My mother is a testament to that." I countered. "Besides I was never going to go by myself, I'm not that stupid."

"Fine," he sighed, leaning heavily onto the arm of the couch. "Let's even remove Anya from this hypothetical solution. Because I highly doubt you've thought through the complexity of caring for a small child on the lamb."

I flinched at his tone. It wasn't dismissive exactly, but he was clearly exasperated. I hadn't forgotten Anya in my plea to leave, she was always a part of this equation. But I hadn't exactly factored in how difficult it would be. After all, my mom managed to take care of me.

"So Stellan goes with you to Indonesia," Luc started. He paused to take the final sip from his coffee, "he's teaching fat tourists how to snorkel and you're bartending at a hotel. You dye your hair, gain ten pounds, get blue contacts - but what was he going to do? A giant, blond, Russian guy with a huge tattoo across his back and memorable scars."

"I...just…" I stammered. Luc tossed his empty cup at the table but it rolled off onto the ground.

"Let's say you both end up scrubbing toilets at night, no one sees you. You are making your meager existence in paradise. Because we can't get you money on the run without exposing you or having the information tortured out of us. Not when the Circle owns every bank in the world." He paused and waited until I looked over at him. I hadn't thought of that either. "What then? That's what you wanted out of your life? That's your purpose? How long do you think it would take for you to hate each other?"

"I don't think," I started but he cut over me.

"You will. He will grow to resent you. You will represent everything he left behind. Everything stopping him from his destiny. Everything wrong in his life. He will get bored with you because he feels trapped."

"Bored is harsh," I broke in.

"He speaks five languages. He plays three instruments. He knows how to kill people with his bare hands. He took the _le bac_ just to see if he would pass without schooling. He did. You think scrubbing shit out of toilets and sleeping in some awful one-bedroom apartment is going to keep him? Is going to ensure he doesn't leave you?"

"So love doesn't count for anything?" I retorted.

"Avery, he is desperately in love with you. It is hard for me to watch some times." Luc snapped and then froze, pressing his lips together. I sucked in a sharp breath, shocked that he'd just admitted that out loud.

He took a deep breath to reset and then twisted on the couch so he was facing me completely. "You would grow to hate him too. You think you're mad at him now?" He held up his hands stopping my outburst. "You think trapping you here is what will break you, what will make you grow to hate all of us in the end. You think you're doomed to be told how to live your life. That free will no longer exist now that you ascended to power. You feel like only escaping with him will save you. I know how you feel."

"Oh do you?" I sassed back, the tears welling.

"Of course I do," he reached forward and squeezed my hand. "I wanted to escape too. And for a block of time, I did stupid, dangerous, things to rebel against this stranglehold my life had become. I was doing lines of coke off strangers bare asses in Ibiza for a month."

I looked away, wiping off my damp cheek with my free left hand. He squeezed me again,

"But there comes a point where you realize that the power you have ascended to, the power you possess can be shifted, moved, redirected to things that matter to you."

"Right, right," I sniffled. "I can protect the firstborn sons of the world again."

"No," he said, sounding hurt and I forced myself to turn and face him. "You can use all your wealth and power on things that will help the world, help the needy, help the powerless. You could order the entire Circle to ensure world peace. It would be with an implicit threat, but you could do it. And you're trying to tell me that cleaning up hotel room vomit is more appealing than that?"

"It's not. I know it's not," I sighed. "I understand what you're saying."

"Look at what you did for Samarah and Michiyo and all the other women heirs of the Circle. Look at what you did for all the staff! Look at what you've already done for me. And that was only in your first six months."

"Luc," I wiped at my face.

"My Queen," he smiled and then brought my left hand up and kissed my diamond ring, "don't ever underestimate your power. The Circle thought they'd marry you off and make everyone else bow to them. You bow to no one - least of all Stellan. Don't ever forget that."

His smile lit up his entire face and I threw myself at him in a crushing hug. Ignoring his oomph of noise as I made contact, ignoring my mascara tinted tears staining his sweater, ignoring the little laugh he let out as he started rubbing my back. I squeezed him as hard as I could until it didn't feel like my chest was going to burst.

"Don't ever leave me," I mumbled into his shoulder.

"You say that now," he laughed and then gave me a few more pats as I pulled away. "Want to go exploring?"

"Yes!" I sniffled and grabbed another pastry from the table before Luc lead me on a tour of his 'summer home'.

* * *

Jack and I didn't end up flying back until that evening. After the tour, the dinner ordered in from the best restaurant in town, the drinks in front of a roaring fireplace and several lost games of backgammon I'd relented. Jack helped guide my tipsy self up the stairs onto the chopper back to Riberton and I'd watched Luc's car head back toward Paris from my window. I wasn't sure how he'd managed to convince Jack to let me stay for as long as I did, but I'd have to find some way to repay him for it. By the time we landed and made it back into our wing, it was almost one in the morning. He broke off from me to go down the hallway in the direction of Elodie's room and I wandered toward the living room on my way to my own bedroom, expecting darkness. Instead, every light was on and the TV displayed ESPN on mute. I started moving through the space turning off lights as I went until I got to the couch and saw Stellan, asleep and sprawled across it.

I set my purse on the coffee table and turned the TV off, the room barely illuminated from a light in the hallway, he shifted on the couch and let out a long breath. Watching him, completely relaxed while he slept, I wasn't ready to jump back into this mess. But my fingers itched to touch him, to feel the familiar heat of his skin. I had a quick flash of my handprint across his cheek and clenched my fingers into a fist, pulling away from him instead. There was no way he wasn't still upset about that. I could just talk to him tomorrow, once I'd slept off Luc's heavy pours and my lingering anger. I turned to go and his sleepy voice called out,

"Anya?"

"Go back to sleep," I whispered. His eyes fluttered open and he pushed to sitting and immediately grabbed me around the waist to pull me between his legs, his face resting on my stomach.

"Avery," he sighed.

My hands fluttered above him, startled by how tight he was squeezing me. He took a large breath, relaxing against me and I dropped my hands to his shoulders and then started raking my fingers through his hair. I instantly started to relax as well, one hand sliding down his back, my palm pressing into his tattoo, while the other pulled him tighter against my stomach. Each beat of my heart was pumping out a flood of relaxation. My tight muscles started to soften, my rigid posture curved toward him, my stiff fingers curled around him, keeping him close to me. I'd forgotten how much I depended on him to be my pressure release valve.

I wanted to say something, try and explain myself, apologize, but it all kept catching in my throat. He pulled back a little and rested his forehead on my stomach. I was relieved he wasn't looking at me, this all still felt very fragile, and I was too exhausted to act for him.

"I was so worried about you," he whispered as his hands wrapped around my hips and the tips of his fingers curled into the small of my back.

"We were fine. Jack was there," I whispered back, gently scratching down his back.

"Every time you're out of my," he started to say and I shushed him,

"We left before anything happened."

They bombarded me immediately - the frozen balcony, the snow melting into my blood-red dress, the exasperated look on Jack's face, Luc's gasp. They flooded over all our whispers and relaxation and I stiffened in his hands.

"What?" He asked, clearly sensing my mood shift. From my peripheral vision, I could tell he had looked up at me but I couldn't bring myself to answer. I was exhausted and highly combustible. Now was not the time to scream at each other about this. Because I knew only one thing for sure - this was going to go from whispers to screaming in about 2.5 seconds.

"Nothing," I carefully answered and straightened, retracting my hands, trying to take a step back. He dropped me, like I was electrified, and threw his hands over his face as he collapsed back into the couch groaning,

"I can't take much more of this, Avery."

"Of what, exactly?" I snapped, crossing my arms over Luc's itchy sweater.

"I already told you," he growled, dropping his hands. "It's what I made you promise me when you stabbed me in Notre Dame and left with Jack. I was never going to run. That has never been a secret between us."

"Just about the only one," I ground out and we finally locked eyes.

Even in the dim light being cast from the hallway I could see the unease filter across his face. But I knew he wasn't going to say a damn word - just in case he ended up self-incriminating for other secrets he was keeping. My heart ached in my chest. It was like I was actually seeing him for the first time - or at least seeing a side he'd been hiding from me. I should have known. He couldn't have survived this long without becoming an expert liar. The weariness pulsed through me and I shook my head at his silence, turned, and started to walk away.

"Wait," he jumped up from the couch, but I ignored him and kept walking toward the bedroom. "What happened? What did you hear?"

"No way," I shook my head and scratched at the collar of the sweater, the wool getting really irritating as my anger started to heat me up.

His hand wrapped around my arm and spun me around to face him. I wrenched my arm away and then shoved him back. He put his hands up, placating, "sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"Why?" I snapped. "Why did you give her that order?"

"Who?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

"Elodie." I glared at him and watched as the realization spread across his face. He clenched his jaw and started shaking his head,

"He tried to kill you, Avery."

"Everyone's trying to kill me!" I shouted. "You had no right to do that without my permission."

He let out a single laugh, "if I had to ask for your permission every time we killed someone we'd never get anything done."

"No," I snapped and closed the space between us so I could glare at him, "this is different. And you fucking know why."

"He had to die. We needed to make a statement." He evenly replied.

"So shoot him, stab him, strangle him, waterboard him. You know hundreds of ways you could have killed him. But not that one. Never that one," I finished with a growl.

"What is the point of having this weapon if we don't use it?" He argued.

"Because _we_ didn't decide," I emphasized. "You used my blood without my permission to kill someone in the same way my mother was murdered!"

"Because we had to!" He shouted back. "You weren't ready to make this kind of choice. I was trying to protect you from…"

"What? Helping?" I interjected.

He shook his head, exasperated. "This was the only way the Circle was going to…"

"Understand?" I cut over him. "Like how a union didn't mean a marriage? Or walks through fire actually meant fireproof? Or that the Order wasn't trying to kill us?"

His lips pressed into a thin line and he looked away, knowing I was right. I tried to take a breath to settle and said, "I see all of this differently than the three of you. I'm the one that decoded the bracelets. I'm the one who found all the clues that led us right here. I am not just purple eyes in a pretty dress."

"You never were," he quickly shot in. Piercing through my swirling emotions with a serious look. "But…"

I let out a growl of frustration. Interjecting, "if we keep doing the same shit in the same way it has always been done we will never evolve into what the Circle expected this to look like."

"Which is?" He challenged.

"Change, Stellan!"

"Change is gradual!" He reached out toward me and I took a step back. His pleading eyes went hard with resentment. "We can get there. But you have to believe me that it was the right call to make at the time."

"Then why was Jack the one that told me months later?" I crossed my arms over my chest. "Don't keep hiding behind this same lie. If it was the right call you could have told me at any point."

"When?" He snapped.

"In Mexico. On Thanksgiving. At the ice skating rink. In the fucking Maldives!" I flung out a hand and poked him, hard, in his chest. "You are not protecting me from shit - you are purposefully keeping me in the dark."

He grabbed my finger, tightly and lowly warned, "I protect you from more than you'll ever know."

"Only because you have to keep me alive, right?" I coldly asked, yanking my finger out of his hold. I threw the door to our bedroom open, the handle banging into the plaster and sticking, he followed me in.

My arm started to pinch and I spun around, ready to kick him and his lightning hands out of this room when he took a deep breath, shook out his left fist and then calmly said, "the only thing I've ever wanted to do is keep you alive, Avery."

Tears flooded me, stinging my eyes and making my nose tingle with warning. That wasn't fair. I sniffled, the boiling anger mixing with heartbreak in my chest, making everything constrict with misery. His worried eyes detailed it all as he slumped in front of me.

"Please leave," I said, my voice thick with tears.

"Is that really what you want from me?" He pleaded.

"You can't give me what I needed most from you anymore," I forced over the lump in my throat.

"And what's that?" He asked, his voice strained and hesitant.

"Trust."

He flinched, rolling his shoulders like he was in pain. My chest ached as I held back the wave of tears that wanted to explode out of me. What had started as lashing out to hurt him had managed to maim me as well. The truth too brutal for either of us to hear out loud. I put a hand over my heart, the other on my rolling stomach and waited. He continued to pale in front of me and then looked down at his hands for a moment before quietly turning around and leaving.


	32. Chapter 31

It was a strange noise that had finally forced me to get out of bed. Time, much like my empty room, had frozen. I forced down a couple bites of food and some bubbly water whenever Gemma quietly left the trays for me. But there was very little I could stomach. At one point, and I couldn't be sure which day, Gemma opened the curtains to illuminate the darkness I'd been existing in. I would just go back to sleep whenever the sun started shining directly into my eyes. This evening, however, the golden rays from the setting sun had hit Luc's sweater still crumpled on the ground. The tight ball of tears I'd managed to avoid came crawling back up my throat but mercifully stopped at the noise. I forced my aching body toward the window, making sure to kick Luc's sweater out of sight as I passed.

Everything was covered in a dusting of snow. Ice hung off the ornamental loops of the metal fencing around our patio. Confusion momentarily broke through my misery as I noticed the noise had come from three ravens on the railing. They were hopping back and forth, dancing along the cold metal and chattering at each other. I had no idea why they were still here, clearly, it was too cold for them to be out. But then a fourth raven landed perfectly in line with them. They suddenly went still and quiet and I moved a step closer in curiosity. The final raven swung his head nearly all the way around to glance at me through the glass and then they all took off into the setting, crimson, sun. Startled, I flicked the curtains closed and forced myself to leave the room. I needed to find my phone. I might be ignoring everyone else, but I wanted to make sure I was still available to Anya.

I made it halfway down the hallway when a stomach cramp hit with such intensity that I stopped and held onto the wall. When it subsided I sucked in a big breath and kept moving. I turned the corner toward Stellan's office and came to a complete stop again as another cramp took over my whole midsection. It was a sharp pain below my belly button that dulled around the edges as it spread across my body, painful to the point of panic and spreading around to my back. I tried to breathe through my nose and then let out a loud groan as it slowly faded. As I caught my breath a wave of nausea spread across me, pricking my skin and making my heart thump with panic.

I darted into the office's attached powder room, barely getting the door shut before I threw up in the toilet and then doubled over from the cramps. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. I stood, flushed, limped to the sink to rinse my mouth out and tried to stand up straight but the cramps made me double over again. It felt like the worst period cramps in my life. I fumbled back toward the toilet to sit down and gasped. Blood. So much blood. The punishing nausea rose again with a sheen of sweat covering my body when I heard the office door open and Elodie's voice snap,

"_Entrez là-bas._"

There was a second pair of shoes stumbling across the hardwood with her clicking heels. The door closed and I tried to move, but the pain was so intense I just doubled over and tried not to groan. The last thing I needed was for Elodie, of all people, to find me like this.

"Hey," she yelled at the person. Her heels clicked across the floor some more and then she commanded again, "hey!"

There was a moment of silence and then a resounding thud of someone being hit. "Get it together!"

"Ouch!" Stellan yelled at her and then cursed in French.

I held my breath as another wave of cramps took over. Possibilities were flashing through my mind, is this what appendicitis felt like or maybe my liver was finally failing from all the booze? It was about the only consistent thing I had left in my life now, even if the stash by my bedside was getting low.

"What the fuck is going on? Tell me everything. Now." Elodie's voice was so close it sounded like she was right outside the bathroom door.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he miserably groaned.

The aching cramps came back and all I could hear was their muffled voices as the blood roared in my ears. It took a supreme amount of effort not to start swearing like a sailor. As I let out a slow, silent breath I realized it had grown quiet again. Maybe they had left, small mercies, right?

"Oh...S," Elodie replied so tenderly I almost didn't recognize her voice.

He grumbled something back in French that she stomped her foot at and then he pleaded, "what the fuck are we all going to do?"

"Idiot boy." Elodie angrily retorted.

They started arguing again but it faded out. All I could focus on was breathing through my nose trying to hold back the vomit as it bombarded me again. There wasn't even a trash can close enough to catch it.

"She'll murder you first," Elodie sassed back, loudly. " I'd call that progress."

With the nausea passing the dizziness took over and I held onto the toilet paper holder to try and keep my bearings as the room spun around me. Maybe I should actually make some noise so I didn't die on a toilet like Elvis.

"You're a king. Start acting like one." Elodie commanded of Stellan and started stomping, but I couldn't be sure which way.

I leaned forward onto my knees, everything relaxing for a moment and panted like I'd been sprinting for the past five minutes. But as soon as I could catch my breath it all swept back in right as the handle to the bathroom started to turn. The cramping was so bad I bit my lip, absolutely unable to say anything. I heard the door swing open and looked up a little to see Elodie's shoes.

She slammed the door shut and locked it, her heels clicking quickly over to me. I looked up, the tears welling immediately as her panicked eyes took me in.

"How bad?" She whispered.

"Bad." I ground out.

"Nausea? Pain?" She asked and moved to the cabinets, digging around.

"Yes." I tried to sit back up and wiped at my clammy forehead.

"Clots?"

"How did you guess that?" I groaned.

"Because you're miscarrying." She quietly replied.

"What?" I looked up at her and then at her hand on the doorknob. "Don't!"

"Avery, you have to go to the hospital." She opened the door, closing it behind herself and I heard her call out to him. "Get Jack on the phone. Have him set up transport to Portland Hospital immediately."

"I'm sorry, what?" Stellan's confused voice moved toward us.

"We need a driver to take us to Portland to a private room through the private entrance," Elodie explained it to him like he was a five-year-old. Everything cramped on me and I couldn't stop the rasping breath as I contracted into myself.

"Who's in there?" Stellan's panicked voice was closer. "What's wrong?"

"Avery is miscarrying."

There was a struggle at the door and then Elodie's commanding, "stay the fuck out right now. Do what I told you to."

"How can you expect me," Stellan started but the door opened and then slammed shut, Elodie locking it behind herself.

He banged on the door, I swallowed my nausea back down and felt another wave of pain. "How do you know that's what wrong?" I groaned. Stellan's banging stopped.

"It's basic math." She replied, loud enough for both of us to hear. "Your medical record said you had the birth control shot in January. It only lasts for six months."

"Oh shit," Stellan said from the other side of the door.

"Did you call Jack?" She snarled at him. His shuffled away from the door and then barked into his phone,

"Set up a medevac to Portland for Avery." There was a pause. "Miscarriage. I know. Yes, now."

He hung up, his shadow at the door again. I finished up and braced against the wall to stand, Elodie grabbed my other side and then quietly said, "don't look."

She flushed the toilet, wrapped her arm around my waist, and started helping me to the door. As soon as she turned the lock it flew open. His hands reached for me, shaking with emotion and I looked up into his panicked face and moved into his touch. Elodie slipped away as soon as he had me, clicking through the study and into the hall yelling for Jack. There was a small moment of awkwardness, my body needing him to hold me, but my brain still wanting to recoil from his touch. Another wave of cramps made me contract and he guided me to a chair. I sat at the edge and turned Elodie's words over in my head.

"Mexico." I breathed.

"Mexico." He agreed, and then a long silence filled the study as I knew we both thought about that trip and everything after. All the drinking, the Molly, the travel. The Maldives had been particularly bad. And I had been pregnant then too? Guilt flooded me. I'd done this. I'd pumped so much poison through myself that I'd caused this miscarriage. And the guilt doubled as a wave of relief filled me.

"Let's go," Jack said as he appeared in front of us, flushed and panicky. He tried to hide his wary reaction and failed. I glanced at the mirror above the fireplace and swallowed hard. I looked sickly, sweaty, glassy-eyed, and ashen. Stellan helped me up again and led me toward the hallway and the waiting wheelchair. I wanted to protest it, but with both of them looking so panicky I knew it would fall on deaf ears. Oddly, I wanted Elodie. To my relief, she appeared,

"We have an escort. It should only take fifteen minutes. The room is ready." She looked down at me and then over at Jack, "find us some towels."

"Towels?" He paused next to Stellan's pushing down the hall.

"Now." She commanded and Jack took off toward the powder room down the hall. I relaxed back into the wheelchair, glad I had her. We moved through the house quickly and out a side door to a waiting car. Elodie grabbed the towels from a still shell-shocked Jack and threw them down on the seat. Stellan slipped me in, and I looked up at him and asked,

"Can I ride with Elodie?"

"But," he started and she pushed him toward the second car.

"Of course you can. We will all arrive at the same time." She rounded to the other side of the car and slid in, directing the driver to go as soon as her door closed.

"Thank you," I whispered and put my forehead against the glass.

"No problem," she simply replied, and then pressed her lips together before rising the partition. She quietly asked, "was there a very large clot?"

"I don't think so." I looked at her. "Is that bad?"

"It could be." She frowned. "Ectopic pregnancy. But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"How do you know all this?" I closed my eyes as I asked. The silence filled the car and I had my answer.

"It wasn't either of theirs. If that's what you were thinking," she flatly replied.

"I was thinking about how drunk I was the entire time I was in the Maldives, and all my liquid meals since I came back," I croaked, the tears coming back. There was another long stretch of silence before I added, "how guilty I feel at my relief."

And to my complete and utter surprise, I felt Elodie's hand squeeze my upper arm. She held it there as I failed to stop my tears streaming down my face. I wondered for the hundredth time this month if this is what my life had become - if this is what I'd have to live through. Such isolation and loneliness that a touch from my most of the time frenemy was comforting.

* * *

"While this is upsetting, it's not uncommon. Most women experience a miscarriage. If there is any comfort to be found from this, perhaps it is the knowledge that fertility will not be an issue for you in the future."

Silence filled our private room, and I looked down at my hands, twisting my diamond around my finger, over and over again. The noise of my monitors started to break through my continuing shock and I heard Stellan shift in the chair near the foot of my bed and then darkly warn the doctor,

"Leave."

She gave us both a deep nod and quickly mumbled, "Your Majesties."

Before the door could close behind her Jack and Elodie shuffled in next and I folded my hands and squeezed them as hard as I could. I kept my eyes down and tried to keep track of all the different colors my fingers were turning as I cut off all the blood to them.

"Right," Jack quietly sighed and carefully sat onto the couch to the left of me, against the far wall. Elodie moved toward my bed. From the corner of my eye, I caught her hand slide along my guard rail, but I still didn't look up.

"We should…" Elodie cautiously started next and Stellan cut over her with,

"Stop. Both of you. Just leave us alone."

"Stellan," Elodie tried to reason with him, taking a step in his direction. I released my hands, a surge of blood rushing into my strangled fingers.

"Don't," he snapped. I heard Jack stand and usher them toward the door to leave, but not before Elodie firmly said,

"What happened between you two, this loss, it can't be more important than everything we stand to lose."

The door clicked shut, shielding us from the nearly constant noise that always seemed to happen in a hospital - even at midnight. The silence between us stretched, curving around our quiet breaths. I tried to shift my aching body on my uncomfortable bed, it made the plastic mattress cover crinkle. After the blood work, ultrasound and procedure they had to perform I was supposed to stay overnight for monitoring because of my pre-existing medical conditions. Though I had a feeling that it had more to do with getting enough prep time to get me out of here without the press seeing.

He stood and moved over to the bed, checking all my monitors and peeking into my water cup. How far back had we been here before - me on a bed, terribly injured, keeping everything from each other. Out of what? Fear? There wasn't much left to be afraid of now. He reached over and carefully pulled out the blankets at my feet so they weren't pinning me to the mattress anymore. The realization made my heart ache in my chest. All those weeks I'd thought one of my nurses had been feeling merciful toward my strangled feet. It had been him. I could feel his eyes on me, holding his gaze unwaveringly on where my own should have been meeting his. But I couldn't do it. Instead, his shaky hands smoothed down the blankets on my thighs and then pulled back into tight fists as he quietly asked me,

"How are you feeling?"

"Bad," I flatly answered. Even the woozy spin of the painkillers couldn't take the edge off all this.

He sighed, as if he should have known better, and amended with, "what are you feeling?"

My shaky left hand tucked some hair behind my ear. I summoned the courage to finally look at him and exhaled the word,

"Relieved."

He sucked in a breath and tried to mask his reaction by nodding, but it was too late. I put my forehead in the palm of my right hand, the tears pooling in my eyes. With a miserable exhale they rolled down my cheek and plunked onto the awful off-white colored sheets bunched around me.

"Because you were worried about what would have happened if you'd kept the baby? Or because you're not pregnant anymore?" He pushed, unsatisfied with my silence.

I didn't want to voice it. I didn't want to admit it out loud. If I said it out loud it would mean too many things in too many ways and I was too tired to fight anymore. I held his gaze for a single moment, knowing he'd read the answer in my eyes. He swallowed hard, looked away, clenched his fists around the guard rail of my bed and shifted uncomfortably. My arm started to pinch with pain and I slid my fingers around my rough sheets, looking for my morphine button.

"Did you know?"

I glared at him through a woozy spin of vertigo to retort, "of course not."

He clenched his jaw, holding back the next thing he wanted to say. It was morbidly familiar to me, and I hoped this would be the last thing we said to each other tonight. But then he took a step back from the bed, crossing his arms over his chest, tightly, and this spike of warning went off in the back of my scrambled brain.

"Would you have told me if you did?" He demanded.

The anger burned in my chest, building with the pain in my arm. I ignored them both. _We were really going to do this now? Fine._

"What kind of question is that?"

"A valid one," he carefully answered. "You didn't want to marry me. You don't want any of this."

The silence built between us again. I knew now what he was trying to do, insight me to trigger my PCS and let the truth come boiling over.

"That's not what I said," I calmly answered back.

His arms tightened across his chest, surprised, and he shifted in his dress shoes. I'm sure he didn't like his own tactics getting thrown back in his face. I looked back down at my blankets for the morphine button again, following one of the lines back toward my IV stand.

"Fine," he snapped. "You want me but not children? A family?"

"We already have one," I answered, pointing towards the closed door. "You sent them out into the hallway like they were staff. You drew that line, not me."

He took a furious breath. "It's not the same and you know it. This is about us."

"You're telling me you want to have children right now?" I implored him. "You are barely 21. I am 17."

"I already have one. She is seven," he said his voice softening, rubbing his left hand across his forehead, his ring catching in all the fluorescent lights. "She asked me how long it takes to have a baby after you get married. You are the only one who doesn't want this."

"Ready," I corrected, shaking my head, "I'm not ready for this."

He dropped the tight hold on his arms and moved back toward the bed, exhaling, "you have always thought too little of yourself."

Reaching over the guardrail he trailed his warm palm down my arm toward my hand. His fingers slipped between my own and he gave me a light squeeze.

"Maybe," I conceded. Relief filled his face, and it stabbed right into the very heart of me. I retracted my hand from his hold and looked up into his eyes to say, "but this was never your choice to make."

I watched, with detached horror, as something broke in his eyes. He kept completely still in front of me for two full breaths before he seemed to shake back awake into his body, the anger and desperation quickly replaced with fear in his face.

"Don't say that," he whispered. "This was my mistake too."

"But it is my body," I calmly added.

"What are you…" he started to say but I cut over him.

"I am not having a baby in three years or however long the Circle thinks it should be. It'll be when I want it to be. All the rules I changed on marriage and inheritance also applied to me."

He let out this barking, mirthless, laugh, his eyes sweeping over me to take me in but also looking through me somehow. I realized he still had nothing to say to that.

"So what now?" He leaned his forearms onto my bedrail, appraising me with cold eyes. "Everything I ask you is wrong, everything I say insights you, you won't let me get close enough to touch you. How can you say you want me? That you want this family. You don't."

"You're right," I simply answered. "I want Anya and Jack and Elodie and Luc and Colette. They're my family. I don't want whoever this is." I waved my hand up and down surveying him, "I thought I made that perfectly clear to you."

Even through the painkillers and sedatives, my arm started a quick descent into agony. I viced my right hand over my bicep, making the IV tug a little with the motion. When I realized it wasn't going to help, and they'd probably hidden my morphine button from me, I looked back up to beg him to let up on the both of us. But he was already backing away from the bed again, shaking out his left fist so fast it was a blur.

"What does that even mean?" He asked, his shoulders and neck started to tense as well as he started shaking out the other fist simultaneously.

A long groan of pain rattled through my teeth, followed by my infuriated huff. I tried my best to stay calm, not be the one to escalate this situation. But now he wasn't playing fair and there was only so much pain one person could be put through. The truth came barreling out of my mouth,

"You manipulated my feelings for you to make me stay. You forced my compliance through the threat of violence against everyone I care about. You buried me in a web of lies to trap me here. That is not love."

"For Christ's sake," he growled back. I ignored him.

"I know you think you loved me. But you never respected me. You can't have trust without respect. And I can't love someone I don't trust."

Instantly, my arm felt like it had been blown off the pain was so intense. I looked over at it just to make sure it was still there. The scream tore free from my throat, the pain flooding through the shock at the same moment he let out this feral sounding noise. The machines were blinking and stuttering around us, the air so electrified I could taste the ozone. A pulse pushed through the room frying all the electronics around us, making the lights blink above us, shattering the glass in all the windows. I could hear Jack and Elodie trying to break into the room from the other side, unable to because the electronic locks were fried from his EMP.

"Stellan calm down! Calm down!" I shrieked at him. I grabbed the rail of my bed to move toward him realizing within the next moment everything around me was metal.

The lightning sparked around his fists, growing with every horrifying second. I leapt from the bed, the IV tearing out of my arm, blood splattering everywhere, the world closing in around the edges. I was going to pass out. The pain was too much. And his eyes had glazed over like he was in some kind of trance. My heart was pounding in my chest, too fast and hard. My breaths grew tight and difficult and the terror doubled for me.

"Stellan!" I feebly tried to yell toward him, my voice weak. It was no use. I curled around my broken body. The pain was making everything shut down in my panic. I was sobbing on the ground unable to move toward him, unsure if I even should.

The pain peaked. My body seemed to recall the sensation, the worst thing I'd ever experienced. My consciousness quickly started slipping away from me, his eyes taking me in, bleeding and gasping, prone on the dirty hospital floor and then there was nothing but blinding white light.


	33. Chapter 32

I gingerly touched the yellowing bruise on the center of my chest. There wasn't a single part of my body that didn't still hurt, and I could tell by the side glances that I looked like every ounce of the shit I felt. It was my first foray out of my room since I'd been released. I didn't really want the company, but I couldn't stand the orange sheets staring back at me anymore. Shuffling my feet across the floor towards the couch Jack quickly stood up and moved to help me, but I waved him off. I didn't want anyone to touch me.

Two days. It had been two days since Stellan took off. Two days since I died again.

I sunk down into the soft leather cushions already exhausted by the thought of when I'd have to get back up again. Every painful breath I took alone reminded me of how horrible things had become. I needed the distraction. Even if that was going to be whispers and worried glances.

I heard Elodie's husky sounding French coming down the hall behind me and watched as Jack quickly ducked out of my line of sight. They really didn't need to keep doing that - giving me all this space. I knew how dire a situation we were in now despite the mandated bed rest. It wasn't that hard to piece together when we didn't have a single lead. But they continued to plan around me, and I was far too injured to stop them.

Gemma entered next with a tray of tea, unable to hide how her curt smile always fell a little every time she saw me. All I could manage was a nod of thanks. She'd been trying endless types of herbal teas for me in a different stunning tea set for every pot. It made me really wish I liked any of them so I'd have something to say. Instead, everything just went cold.

_BUZZ._

_BUZZ._

_BUZZ._

In the crack between the two couch cushions next to me was a phone. I slowly reached down and carefully pulled it out. It was strange to feel grateful for completing such a small task, but I held onto it. I needed some small sliver of hope. I was rewarded further when I flopped the phone into my lap and realized it was mine. I couldn't even remember when I'd lost it now, but it was filled with missed meetings, notifications, voicemails, email alerts, a barrage of texts. But the thing that made my heart swell were the three newest text messages - from Anya. I ignored everything else, hoping she'd sent me a picture of her and her horse, or all the signatures on her cast or something. My hungry eyes scanned her messages,

_Did Stellan say he's sorry?_

_From when he yelled on his birthday?_

_I'll call him. Don't worry, Avery._

My eyebrows furrowed trying to process what she was saying. Did she really not know? My thumbs started typing automatically, the words pouring out of me faster than I could keep up with. They started to blend and merge as a sob broke through before the onslaught of tears. I gave up, deleted it all, brought my hands up to cover my face, crying all over the phone, as I dropped my head forward onto my knees. There was running and then shoes on either side of me almost immediately after it. I'd barely managed a shaky breath when Jack demanded,

"What? What happened?"

I tossed my wet phone at the coffee table and pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes, trying to stop it all, but it just continued to grow - fueled by the darkness in my chest.

"Lie to her," I sobbed. "Please...I can't."

One of them picked up the phone. Then they were talking in more whispered French. Someone sat next to me on the couch and I heard the little clicks of the text being typed and tried to force myself to stop crying. There wasn't really much of a point anymore.

I heard my phone lock and I wiped at my face, the tears sinking further and further away from the surface as everything was smothered out by my depression. I turned to see Elodie sitting next to me, tugging at her bottom lip with her teeth, eyeing me warily. Jack was standing next to her, flipping my phone anxiously around in his hand. I forced a deep, shaky breath, the last of my fit sliding away and looked away from their worried eyes. I told the wallpaper,

"Send more Order guards to the school. If the Circle finds out about this they'll come for her."

"Shouldn't we bring…" Jack started to say and I shook my head. His question died in his throat.

"No. Too suspicious. She shouldn't be punished for this too."

It went eerily quiet. Just the ticking of the clock and the buzz of appliances hidden somewhere in all this gaudy opulence. Then Jack exhaled a low,

"Right away."

I wasn't surprised when Elodie didn't leave with him. I'd heard the doctors debrief them. Heart even weaker now. No big scares. Too much stress can be detrimental. Watch her PCS. She's unstable. Suicide risk. Start giving her these. There had been a shake of several bottles. It would seem the only person I couldn't seem to kill was myself. I blinked my burning eyes again and noticed Elodie shift, nervously, next to me. I turned to her and slowly asked,

"This is all I was meant for, wasn't it?"

"What?" She whispered back.

"Death."

"_Non_," she harshly exhaled. Her eyes flew open in shock and she reached across toward me. Her fingers dug in hard on my thigh through my leggings and I barely registered the pinch of pain.

"No, Avery." She emphasized again, squeezing me as hard as she could. Her eyes were intense, scared even, her fingers at the point of bruising. I just looked away, back to the wallpaper and she let go.

I wished I could believe her.

* * *

The ground was moving swiftly underneath us in the car, a small jolt made my head slide a little on his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against the top of my head and let out a little laugh in his chest. I twisted in my seat until I could look up at him, but in all the darkness of the car, I couldn't see his face. Just the stubble on his jaw illuminated every few seconds from the streetlights outside. I grabbed onto the lapel of his tux pulling him down onto me and then we were slipping, falling through the floor of the town car.

I landed with a thud, coughed, slid my hands over rough concrete and sandy dust. I heard it behind me, crackling, building, sucking the oxygen from the room. It was blindingly bright, I wanted to close my eyes against it but I saw him. His chest barely moving up and down in the crumpled mess he'd landed on the floor of the tomb. I tried to move toward him and the floor started to swallow me. Quicksand. With every struggle, I started to sink deeper. The lightning spiked around the room, spearing into walls and bouncing off the ceiling, looking for its target. The harder I struggled the faster I sunk. I knew I had to stop moving, it was the only way to save myself. But then how would I save him? I had to save him. The lightning let out a deafening CRACK behind me, a single, thick, line of destruction speeding straight toward him. I tried to scream, the quicksand sucked me under.

I thrashed awake, kicking the covers away from myself, already sobbing. I touched my face, surprised by how wet it was and pressed my hands into my face trying to calm myself down. My diamond pressed into my cheek with the motion and it made my whole body shudder with misery. I reached over and switched on my lamp. 3AM. For the fourth night in a row. I grabbed his pillow and held it to my chest. Trying, in vain, to slow down my weak heart struggling against my ribcage. The nightmare was still so close to the surface of my frantic thoughts that I touched the top of my head, just to see if it'd be warm from his touch. Cold. Just like everything else.

Tossing his pillow aside I slid off the bed and slowly trudged toward the bathroom. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep, all my attempts throughout the rest of the week had just ended in increasingly worse nightmares. Or slowly boiling anger as I glared at the ceiling daring my brain to let me actually sleep. It never did. So instead I fumbled through the motions every morning - shower, dress, food, and then hours of work until the rest of the house started to rise. It was about the only thing that kept me distracted enough when I was left to my own devices.

This morning, however, I'd barely gotten halfway through my English muffin when my phone started blowing up with alerts. _Well, fuck...this wasn't good._ I angrily swiped another headline away on my phone before I locked it and squeezed it in my fist. I hadn't really intended to, so lost in my own thoughts I hadn't even registered walking, but I found myself staring down Elodie's door.

I knocked, lightly, hoping she was awake to start brainstorming about this only to have it slide open under my touch. Bright, warm, light was filling the small space from the bedside lamps. It fell onto empty, twisted brilliant white sheets and a deep blue duvet. I stepped further in, intrigued by the beautiful, modern lines of the headboard and light fixture above it.

It sounded as if she was still taking a shower in the attached bathroom. I'd only peeked inside here once, so I gave myself another moment to take in little details. Books were stacked on a small table next to a light brown leather chair, red bottom shoes were in a messy pile near the closet, and Jack's unmistakeable watch glinted on the nightstand.

_Right. I shouldn't be here._ I turned to go when Elodie let out a shriek of surprise, one hand pulling her red satin robe tighter on her chest, the other holding the white towel on the top of her head.

"Avery," she exhaled at the same moment I heard Jack yell out something from the shower. She quickly slammed the door shut, her cheeks going a deep shade of red. It was fascinating to me but I shook myself out of it,

"Sorry, I'll go."

"Was there something you needed?" She quickly recovered.

"It can wait. I didn't realize the time." I looked down at my phone to see it was almost 5AM.

"I thought you'd still be sleeping."

She pulled the towel off her head, tossing it at the leather chair. And that's when I noticed the painting for the first time. Somehow, and I assumed it was because of how infuriatingly perfect she could be, the dreary painting I'd bought her in South Africa looked captivating and exotic on her wall.

"Nightmares," I answered, distracted, my eyes still sweeping over all the dark lines and deep red tones. "This looks good here."

"I could never thank you en…" she started to say and then trailed off as I met her eyes, warning her to stop with the look I gave her.

"The press finally got a hold of the Maldives pictures. We should try and figure something out before it balloons." I said and glanced at the artwork for a final time.

She let out a low grumble and stormed over to her bed. Pushing Jack's watch aside she started stabbing at her own phone, "how could I have missed this?"

"It leaked about an hour ago," I shrugged.

"Do you sleep at all anymore?" She wondered, flicking through her phone. "_Merde_."

I was waiting for it. The moment she'd start berating me, chastising me and my drunken antics for ruining her perfectly orchestrated public persona. Having someone carry you out of a bar because you were blackout drunk was going to be hard to spin as anything other than destructive behavior. The very center of my chest pinched in anticipation, poised and ready for the attack. I realized with mild horror that I actually wanted her to yell at me. Even worse, I'd been waiting days for this because it would have felt normal.

With another grab at her robe, she huffed and looked up at me, "how do you want us to handle this?"

I tightened my arms around my chest, squeezing that pinch of pain to try and distract away from my surprise. She wasn't supposed to say that. She was supposed to narrow her eyes at me and talk me into some kind of elaborate publicity stunt to distract away from this misstep. The shower turned off behind her and we both tensed.

"Do you think I could use the Mexico pictures now?" She offered, cringing like she was ready for me to explode as well.

"No," I dropped my hands and took a step back toward the door. "I don't want to see those ever again."

She deflated in front of me, her usually bright eyes going dark with sadness. The door to the shower closed with a bang and she straightened, "we'll fight it Avery, don't worry I'll handle it."

"Thanks," I quickly replied and then turned to go. I caught my reflection in the full-length mirror she had near her closet, a flash of pink highlights swinging out from my lank, messy hair. The resolve filled me, painful and urgent.

"And Elodie?" I asked. She inclined her head toward me. "Set up an appointment with the hairdresser. I want to get all this pink out of my hair before we go to this wedding."

"Of course," she dejectedly replied and I made sure to quietly close the door behind myself as I left them alone.

* * *

I was back in my hiding place - the conservatory. It was about the only space on this gigantic piece of land that I could escape to without people finding me. Usually, I hid on one of the tucked-away benches or the black wrought iron table and chair set I'd found enclosed in gorgeously overgrown pink and purple bougainvillea. But today I was sitting right next to the pond, trying not to chuck my phone into the water. The last light of the weak winter sun was illuminating all the bare trees and scraggly looking bushes outside the glass walls. But the rays were making the inside of the conservatory sparkle. My eternal summer garden. My only escape from the gloomy London winter, or worse - Russia in February.

Forcing myself to look at the weather app again I groaned loudly and took a deeper drink of my vodka tonic. Russia in February was bleak, brutal and bitterly cold. I couldn't believe my stupid, drunken, self had actually agreed to this. I cringed remembering how I'd winked at Evgeni Vasilyev over the dinner table. And I'd heard Russian Orthodox weddings took forever. The only thing that could have made this bearable would have been to have Anya there with me. Her bubbly excitement about showing me around would have melted even the worst Russia was going to throw at me. But we couldn't do that now. And it made me even angrier at Stellan. He continued to take things from me, even in his abandonment. I took another swallow of my drink and leaned closer to the water, watching all the koi fish bubble up to the surface looking for a snack.

Everyone, including the Order, was convinced he was going to be there. The majority of the Circle Family's were going, weddings were taken quite seriously in the Circle, and all the Order's intel was pointing toward Eastern Europe as where he might be. If he was alive at all, which also hadn't been confirmed. But I knew he was alive, I could feel it. And that he wasn't going to show. I couldn't think about him without getting irrationally angry which only led to tears. Unfortunately, we were the only two people that knew his emotions were linked to his power, and if I could barely keep it together I was sure he wasn't in a much better place. I was going to have to do this alone.

Hugo and Cecile Dauphin had made it clear to Luc that he, and his new Keeper, were not part of my entourage for this event. He'd explained to me that, historically speaking, Circle weddings were usually when heads of Family's shopped for their children's spouses. Not that it mattered much anymore for him. Even Colette had canceled on me. When I'd finally managed to get a message through to her publicist she'd informed me that there were reshoots they had to sneak in while the weather was still holding and she'd be unreachable until she arrived the day of the Leap Year Ball. I'd doubled checked all her flights and cars were booked to take her right to Riberton and had hung up, dejected.

I took the final few swallows of booze, feeling the familiar burn all the way down to the pit of my stomach and closed my eyes. What if he did show up? What was I going to do then? Throat punch him? Dissolve into a puddle of tears? I doubt I'd be able to hide everything that churned inside me daily. It was the fuel that kept me smiling at every publicity stunt and pretend to laugh at Circle underlings and their horrible banter. And what would Jack and Elodie think if it all went smoothly? How would they feel if we acted like our world hadn't imploded by him caving to the pressure?

Because a part of me was ready to do that. I was desperate to feel protected and loved and desired - he'd been that for me too. Not just my Keeper, or my publicly recognized plus one, he was my best friend. And that's what had hurt the most. I had poured all my secrets into him. I was closely guarding all of his, even now. He taught me how to drive and bought fifty pounds of Sour Patch Kids as a Christmas present. I'd told him all my wildest desires and darkest fantasies. And never once had he stifled those things. We had both been searching for each other - _toska_. I would give anything to feel that way again. But now we couldn't and the ache of that was almost too much to bear.

Hastily, I swiped at the tears that had managed to escape and sniffled. The fatigue punished me with a wave of vertigo and I laid back on the grass staring up at the glass ceiling. I wished I could have seen the stars. I forced three deep breaths past the misery in my chest and struggled all the way to standing. If my life was nothing but an act this wedding was our last dress rehearsal before our final show. Pocketing my phone I picked up my tumbler from the grass next to me and tossed the ice to the fish whispering,

"_Dasvidaniya._"

* * *

Elodie didn't even look up from her phone as she fumbled around for one of the seats in front of my desk.

"It's not, exactly, what I had wanted but it would seem our invasion of privacy narrative has enough teeth to redirect the Maldives leak. That and the lawsuit."

I nodded, not that she saw. She kept flicking at things on her phone, her face shifting from annoyed to pissed and then exasperated.

"But unfortunately they weren't able to secure the entirety of Catherine's Palace for us. I doubt it's anything our security can't manage. But maybe I should have gone with the Four Seasons anyway."

"It's fine," I said. If she heard me at all she didn't acknowledge it. She just barreled onward,

"I had to move your final fitting to tomorrow afternoon, you're double-booked and we can't get out of the charity luncheon for the Red Cross. Though I wish we could," she added, rolling her eyes at her phone.

"Elodie," I quietly interjected. She kicked her feet up onto the other chair, a flash of red bottoms catching my attention as she fiddled with her phone.

"I know Gemma needed a few final sign-offs before we leave for St. Petersburg on Friday. We have plenty of time, I don't know why she's panicking so much. It doesn't take two weeks to fulfill an additional flower order. We shouldn't even be paying for that, it's not our fault their greenhouse won't have the black orchids in time."

She was rambling. I leaned back in my chair, fascinated by it. Elodie didn't ramble. Elodie belittled and threatened, her silence being the most terrifying of all. But to ramble...something was wrong. Glancing back down at my desk, covered in stacks of paperwork, I had an inkling of what it might be about. I swallowed hard as she continued to lament about the litany of annoying loops we'd have to close as we moved ever closer to the Leap Year Ball. It was almost masterful, the way she kept dancing around the one thing we all should have been talking about.

"Elodie," I firmly cut over her. "I read the Order debrief this morning."

She snapped her mouth shut, pressing her lips together so tightly all her red lipstick disappeared. I looked over at the stained glass window, still trying to sort out how I felt about it. Stellan was alive. The Order had finally confirmed it this morning. He was somewhere in Russia, but even they couldn't figure out where because they were only ever finding the damage he was leaving behind. I guess the silver lining was that it didn't include a body count. I'd been cycling through emotions for hours now - relief to anger to grief and finally to surrender. When we'd been screaming at each other in the Maldives about the Circle trying to kill us if we fled I'd never really considered that the Order would have hunted us down to keep us alive. There really was no escaping this life.

They had also made extensive notes on which Family's were starting to whisper about his absence lately. Their conclusion being that the upcoming wedding in Russia would be the perfect point to force him back into the fold if they could find him. But if he didn't show up by the Leap Year Ball they were already putting into place exit strategies for Anya and myself. None of them included Jack and Elodie. And each one of them sent Anya very far away from me and the threat I'd instantly become to the living, compliant, heir of Alexander the Great.

"I have been doing some research as well," Elodie carefully filled the silence I'd created as I'd gotten lost in my thoughts again. I shook my head. I didn't want to talk about this. It wouldn't come to that. It couldn't. He wouldn't do that to us. Stellan might be a lot of things - a manipulator, an opportunist, a liar, egotistical, but his fierce loyalty would bring him back. Even if it was the last thing he did. I had to believe that. Everything else was too bleak to be real.

"That's not why I asked you to come in."

"Oh?"

"I need you to teach me French," I said. Her eyes went unbelievably wide on her face but I continued, "if the Order is going to hide Anya and leave us to these fucking wolves I want to run with you and Jack. I can't have French be the thing holding me back."

"Of course," she urgently replied, dropping her feet down so she could lean into the desk closer to me. "Anything you need."

She looked like she wanted to hug me and I sat straighter in my chair, I still wasn't ready to be touched by anyone. But I wished I could have taken a picture of her face in that very moment, the absolute resoluteness and devotion plain in her set jaw and unwavering eyes. It was the first time I'd felt safe in a very long time. With Elodie beside me, I knew we'd figure it out. And I would be forever grateful to the karma gods that continued to fuck with me on a daily basis - because at least they set me on a path to earn her friendship.

"You sure you're up for this?" I tentatively asked. "I could hire a tutor."

"Don't insult me, _votre Majesté_," she immediately cracked back and the hint of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.

* * *

I ordered another drink and hung onto the bar for a moment. We were finally at the end of me having to act for an entire long weekend and I wasn't sure I had it in me to hold my tongue for much longer. I'd managed to avoid quite a few Family's just by strategically needing to refill my glass or ducking out toward the bathroom. If you'd told me I'd be drinking cocktails in the ballroom of the Winter Palace of St. Petersburg in a gown that cost more than some people's brand new cars...I would have thought you were insane. I would have laughed. Now I just wanted to escape. Escape the overwhelming opulence of this palace, the contrived sincerity of these plastic people and the weight and bulk of this sage green Christian Siriano gown. At least the novelty of me had started to wear off the drunker everyone became. Except for Valentina. She continued to stalk me like a shark through all the white bow ties and sparkling couture.

I had counted on Rebecca Fredrick to hound me and even the Vaslevy's disappointment with my highly apologetic, but suspiciously vague reasons Stellan wasn't there. But it was Valentina that kept hanging in the shadows of Circle suck-ups and foreign royalty around me. Even Jack and Elodie had been running interference on her, distracting her away with useless introductions and pointless questions to let me escape. This really would have been the moment for Stellan to shine for us, he was a master of intimidation through thinly veiled threats. But I only had to dodge her for two more hours and then I could escape back to our hotel and a plane home to Riberton.

"They say that Catherine the Great did marry Prince Potemkin, in secret."

"I'm sorry?" Maybe it was the cocktails and champagne fizzing through my brain, but I couldn't follow her.

"Catherine had many lovers over the years, but they say she only ever loved him." Valentina raised her hand to the bartender beckoning a drink, "you know she had her husband killed to take the throne, right?"

"Brings new meaning to courtly love I suppose," I forced a smile looked past her for Elodie. "Always great chatting with you Valentina," I angled myself away from the bar but she stepped in front of me to block my exit.

"It raises the question don't you think that if you wed in secret is it really a marriage at all?" She tapped her fingernails against her glass. "Speaking of marriage where's your husband this evening?"

"He hates Russia in the winter actually," I answered, taking a sip and rose my hand in greeting to another well-wisher to stall. When they passed I pooled the anger that was flaring in my chest and closed the two steps between us. She stiffened in surprise as I locked eyes with her and growled,

"If you have something to say to me. Say it. Right now."

"I...just…" she fumbled, swallowing hard. I looked her up and down, in disgust, and clinked our tumblers,

"That's what I thought."

I poured the rest of my drink into her own and then set my glass on top of hers, making her have to catch them, clumsily, so the tumblers didn't shatter all over the ground. Then I spun to my left and stormed off. I wasn't even sure where I was going, just far away from all this bullshit. I was done, and I knew Jack and Elodie wouldn't be far behind me. They were always within arms reach of me. The rest of the guests were at the perfect level of drunk to forget that I ducked out early. Flinging open some doors I made my way toward what I thought was the entrance hallway only to see that it was somewhere else entirely.

Unfamiliar pillars and an ungodly amount of gold were glittering in the low-light of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling every few feet. The sheer amount of gold on the walls made the room almost shimmer and there wasn't a single person as far as my eyes could see. The echoing sound of my oppressive stilettos had me leaning against one of the pillars to remove them. I sighed at the relief, carrying the pair in one hand as I walked down the corridor, realizing there should at least be a guard or someone. I turned around to go back when a door opened down the hall from me and I ducked into one of the alcoves between the pillars of gold. There was no hiding the bulk of my ball gown poofing out in front of me, but I was hoping they would go in the other direction anyway.

Instead, the footsteps drew closer and I held back my groan of frustration, glancing back the way I came in hopes of Jack or Elodie bursting onto the scene for me. To my utter surprise, I heard Zara Koening pleading with someone,

"You don't have to do this!"

"Please stop," Noa Melech replied, her voice exhausted. Their footsteps stopped a couple yards away from me and I held my breath hoping they'd just go through another door. Clearly, they knew where they were going.

"After everything we've talked about, everything we've been planning. You're going to throw it all away?"

The panic spiked in my chest and I fumbled around in the pockets of my dress looking for my phone. Only to clench my fists in frustration when I remembered I'd left it in my purse - that was with Elodie. But my fingers did slide along one familiar object - the knife Elodie had slipped me in my jail cell. I didn't go anywhere without it these days. I looked up at the ceiling, taking a slow, deep breath, hoping this was just some party they'd been planning. _Right. Like anything ever went in my favor._

"You don't get it," Noa tearfully replied. "I love your optimism, but you will never understand what I'm up against."

"Then tell me. Let me help. I'm here for you. I want to be the person you lean on."

"You think they're going to allow that?" Noa let out a dark laugh. "It hasn't changed that much Zara."

"Don't say that."

I clutched my fingers around my knife in surprise. _Were they...together?_

"_Yakiri,_" Noa begged. "Leave me now. While you still can."

They started moving again but I was stunned. This finally explained all of Noa's strange behavior around me. Why she'd been willing to risk so much by breaking protocol in South Africa, why she'd been so disappointed in my 'floor show' in Israel. She'd been completely honest with me the entire time - my new decrees had worked in her favor too.

"Don't," Zara sobbed.

There was the sound of a struggle and I stepped out from the shadows, clenching my fist around my switchblade. Noa's eyes went wide with shock and then misery as she tried to keep a crying Zara upright, their magenta and amber gowns intertwining. Zara's head was resting on her shoulder, with one of her hands wiping her tears, while the other attempting to pull Noa closer by wrapping it around her waist. Noa started fumbling for something in her pocket and I pulled out the switchblade and flicked it open, never breaking eye contact.

Zara startled in surprise and spun around, her huge, red-ringed eyes taking in my knife and then flying back to Noa and the small, golden, revolver now in her hand.

"Oh, God!" Zara gasped and took a few stumbling steps in my direction. Noa started to raise the gun. I reached forward and yanked the back of Zara's dress toward me and then put my knife at her throat to use her as a shield.

"Please! Just kill me. Don't hurt her!" Noa pleaded, the gun shaking in her hands.

"Drop your gun," I ordered her.

Noa nodded, raising her hands above her head and then slowly lowering herself to the ground, "end this for me. Please. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know anything."

"What are you talking about?" Zara cried, moving toward her until I pulled the knife closer to her neck. She let out a strangled, frightened noise, but stopped moving. I couldn't trust either of them. And Noa still had the gun at her feet.

"Kick it over," I barked at her and she complied, tears streaming down her face. The gun skid across the highly waxed floors to land in front of Zara. Her hands still above her head Noa begged,

"Don't you understand? He's going to kill me if I do it or if I don't. That's why I told you to forget about me. Get on with your life Zara. I'll just keep holding you back."

Zara slumped with defeat against me. It forced my already shaking arm to struggle more to ensure I didn't accidentally nick her. A door slammed open behind Noa and our standoff broke for a single moment to see dark shadows storming down the hallway toward us.

"You can't do anything can you cousin?" One of the shadows snarled.

"Please! Don't!" Noa yelled toward the voice, arms going wide like she could hold it back. Not that it mattered. The back of a hand broke through the shadows first, striking across Noa's face and forcing her to the ground. The shadow never broke stride, stepping over her body as it stormed into the lights of a chandelier a few yards ahead of me.

_Shit. David Melech. With his lapdog, Porsha, trotting next to him._

Now what? Did I push Zara out and grab the gun? Did I keep her as a shield? I wasn't sure. The only thing I did know was that I was too exposed for whatever was about to go down in this hallway. I started dragging Zara back with me toward the alcove, grateful I wasn't trying to move this massive dress and Zara with four-inch heels on.

His hands moved to his back and he swung out a custom Israeli made Jericho that glimmered under all the lights and gold paneled walls. I let out a slow, steadying breath. _Human shield then._ I yanked Zara closer to the front of me. David rose the gun, aiming first at Noa, but then leveling it toward me. His eyes focused with a mean sneer, I grit my teeth ready to dodge to my left.

Rapid pops went off. I flinched, the knife jerked just enough to knick Zara, her yelp mixed with Porsha's scream and then I watched as David Melech crumpled to the floor in front of us, a pool of blood quickly staining his white tuxedo jacket. My eyes darted to the right to see Jack and Elodie's guns lowering.

My arms dropped with my exhale and Zara scrambled toward Noa - not that it mattered much. All our Order and Saxon security were already converging on the hallway, scooping up all the suspects and dragging them away. I couldn't stand the thought of Noa and Zara being executed in all the confusion. I spotted Roberts' familiar head and shouted toward him,

"Roberts - no more bloodshed tonight!"

"Your Majesty," he bowed toward me and then turned toward the bloody mess on the floor, ordering people around, "take them into custody."

"Alright?" Jack quietly asked coming up on my right. I looked at both of them and nodded.

"The Order spies kept tabs on him all night. Guess we should have moved the ones on Valentina to you." Elodie mused, her face scrunching into disgust as they started to carry David's still dripping body out of the hallway.

I looked away, tightly saying, "sorry."

"It's our job," Jack pacified.

"I don't always make it easy for you to do your job. So thank you," I finished with a sigh. I brought my knife up to examine it, but it just bounced around in my shaking hands.

"You sure you're alright?" Jack moved a step closer to me, as did Elodie.

"You'd think I'd be used to it by now. Someone's always trying to kill me." I answered, looking back down the hall to see it was empty now - except for the puddle of blood.

Jack and Elodie sighed simultaneously and I almost laughed. But the fire that ripped down my left arm choked out even the air in my chest. My knife clattered out of my hand onto the marble floors and the corners of my vision blurred as I tried to struggle in a breath through the pain.

Their voices sounded far away, my knees started to buckle and Elodie grabbed my left arm to steady me.

"Fuck," I screeched, thrashing my arm away from her.

"What?!" They yelled at me as I sank to my knees.

"He's here," I groaned, cradling my numb left hand against my thready heartbeat.

Their heads snapped around the empty hallway as they pulled their guns out again. I dropped back onto my heels, shocked and confused, panting,

"What are you gonna do, shoot him?"

"Maybe," Jack growled, his eyes narrowing at dark corners.

"You can't," I shook my head, shaking out my left arm, anything to try and get the pain to stop. Nothing was going to work. I leaned forward in agony, my palm landing on the knife. I squeezed it in my palm as I struggled back toward my feet.

"Oh, yes we can," Elodie retorted and then slung an arm around my waist to help me stand, her gun still out.

"You can't kill Stellan," I ordered through my teeth, the pain lessening just enough to take a breath.

"After everything he's done to you?" Jack challenged, scooping up the other side of me. Tears flooded my eyes but I forced them back down.

They moved in tandem, half dragging me back toward the door they'd entered from and I shoved them both off, despite the stab of pain it caused my scar.

"Yes, idiots," I growled. "You kill him and you kill the mandate. He has to stay alive. So this is a good thing."

"Subjective," Elodie cracked back.

"Fact," I snapped. Order guards poured out of the door we were moving toward, darting past us and Jack reached over and grabbed my upper arm giving me a good tug,

"He can escape on his own then."

I didn't argue. I just tried to manage my ebbing and flowing pain as we dashed around more unfamiliar guards, through side doors and jogging past galleries. Jack and Elodie kept relaying information and strategizing in short bursts. All I could gather was that the gunshots had spooked all the guests and people had scrambled into all the galleries of the Hermitage, looking for an exit. We marched through room after room of royal red carpets with sky-high white marble pillars. The gold filigree on all the ornate embellishments was starting to blur as my fatigue built. This was all too much for my body to handle, the shock, the stress, the pain, the exercise. Mercifully it abruptly ended when we reached the foyer. We scrambled across some regular tile and pushed through an old swollen wood door to be blasted with freezing wind, the snow chilling my bare feet.

To my left, the magnificent iron gate of the Hermitage clanged in the wind, to my right a huge pile of dirty plowed snow, and in front of me was the massive monolith in the center of the Palace Square jutting up into the dark sky. Our car skidded to a stop from all the ice and Jack yanked me toward it while Elodie helped wrangle my ball gown. A flurry of snow pelted us as we sandwiched into the back seat until the doors finally shut and we took off. The Hermitage was just a smear of sea green and white streaks as our driver illegally speed through the pedestrian part of the Palace Square on his way toward the main thoroughfare.

As the car rumbled over the frozen Neva river I finally allowed myself to breathe again. Short gulps finished mostly with tiny groans as my pain gradually relented the further we got from the palace...and him. I folded my hands in my lap, fiddling with my rings unsure what to say now. Elodie let out an angry huff next to me and the truth started bubbling to the surface, all the secrets, all the pieces to this puzzle that we had been keeping from them. What was the point now? Were they even secrets anymore now that Jack and Elodie had been the ones to take me home from the hospital the second time?

"He can't control it," I whispered to the car. Jack and Elodie stiffened on either side of me. "Not that it's an excuse for what he's done. But he can't. And I can feel it, in my scaring, whenever it activates and ramps up inside him. Anya doesn't know any of this, of course. We want to keep it that way. She's part of the 13th bloodline but we don't want her to suffer through this too. It wouldn't be right. I don't think I was supposed to survive this...either time. But we always disagreed on the interpretation of the mandate."

Jack swallowed hard next to me and I relaxed back into my seat, deep enough that I couldn't see their faces anymore in the darkness of the car. The tires continue to squeal, carrying us further and further from this new disaster I'd created, my growing body count by association. I didn't even want to think about what we were going to have to do with the rest of that group. That was something to worry about tomorrow. Tonight...well tonight was saying all the things we should have been saying to each other from the beginning.

I pressed my lips together, to stop myself from babbling on in the wake of their silence when Elodie threw her hands over her face and let out a long groan. She leaned backward until she was next to me and looked up at the ceiling of the car as she quietly added,

"That's not true."

"El," Jack warned. She shook her head, ignoring him.

"The Order and I have been running all kinds of genetic testing on your blood...both of your blood. It's pointing toward...inheritable abilities...from the tomb," she finished in a whisper.

Silence. My shocked silence made them both freeze again. We jostled into each other a few times as the car bumped along until I cleared my throat,

"You're saying our baby?"

"Yes."

I clenched my still aching fist as tight as I could, the diamond digging into the fleshy part of my palm. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and shook it out, settling it onto my stomach. We all let out a long sigh together and I pressed my hand harder into my stomach through all the layers of my dress. It hurt to hear that. It was too soon, too raw and feral inside my chest to try and tame any kind of reaction to that knowledge. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest,

"Anything else?"

They shook their heads. Jack leaned forward onto his knees, holding his head in his hands, his fingers digging into all his windswept hair. I watched the streaking lights from the street lamps pass over him for a few beats when Elodie's angry voice filled our car,

"How can you still want to protect him? He ruined everything!" She fidgeted in her seat next to me, scowling, and finished with, "I can't forgive him."

I didn't really expect them to understand. I was still grappling with how I felt exactly. But I'd be lying to myself if I didn't acknowledge there was a part of me that had wished he was the one that appeared in the hallway tonight - not Jack and Elodie. Like he'd always done for me. Like I still wanted him too. And he had tried, he was here, my aching arm was a testament to that. It just wasn't enough. No matter how desperately we wanted it to be. How could I explain to them that I wanted to protect the man that loved and understood the real me, without ripping my heart from my chest as proof? How I couldn't condemn him to exile for these mistakes? They would have to be atoned for, of course, but my life just didn't make sense without him in it. Even now.

The car took a sharp turn toward the airport and the stabbing, burning, throb in my scar finally started to unravel. I suddenly and achingly wanted to go home - to Riberton. I wanted to wrap the gigantic, fuzzy, yellow blanket Anya had given me for Christmas around myself and fall asleep on top of our empty, orange, sheets. To sleep until this all started to make sense again. And in my mind's eye, I had a flash of Elodie's room and realized a way they might start to understand.

"We just wanted what everyone else gets to have," I sighed. "Morning showers, inside jokes, twisted sheets. But I suppose the price of what we are is too high for that."

"Avery," Jack's voice rumbled low in his chest.

"I'm not asking you to understand," I interrupted him. "But he's my family and I'll protect him. I'll protect all of you with everything I have. For as long as I can."

The car dipped into silence again and I leaned my head against Elodie's shoulder, the fatigue starting to demand relief. Jack clenched his jaw and turned to look out the window at the same moment that Elodie let out a loud sniffle. I hadn't meant to upset them, but then again that's all that kept happening lately. It had been a long fucking month. I slid my hands out from their hold in my lap and grabbed onto each of their forearms, squeezing tight for a moment until my exhaustion finally won out.

I let out a low whisper, "don't be mad about the shoes."


	34. Chapter 33

We moved down the hall as a unit, Jack in front barking orders at Roberts, Elodie in back directing Order security, and Gemma keeping pace next to my gigantic ball gown as she fired off last-minute arrangements. I'd spent every waking minute with the three of them since we'd safely landed back at Riberton from Russia. It had been a jarring two weeks. One minute I'd be helping Gemma put finishing touches on this ridiculous ball that had grown out of control. The next I was working with Elodie on press fall out from Russia or Jack on prisoner detainment and interrogation. That was, of course, when the Order wasn't hounding me about any kind of inclination I might have received from Stellan while I was in Russia. Which I hadn't unless you counted my arm - but I wasn't going to tell them that.

Our team meeting at the crack of dawn had confirmed that Zara Koning was finally cleared on any suspicion of treason. But she would be 'staying with us' for a few more months as the interrogations continued on Porsha and Noa. She was being used tonight as a shadow for Valentina, who had already been flagged as a person of interest. She hadn't been a part of the _coup de grâce_ for the Melech's in Russia, but her attitude right before it had been suspicious enough to be put on the watch list for tonight.

You could hear the noise of the crowd filling our house even through the walls of the private wing. I pushed the nerves down again and reached up to adjust my diamond earrings as the group of us slid, single file, through one of the secret doors for the back passageway toward the front of Riberton.

"Daniels!" Jack yelled out at a suit jogging ahead of us. A redhead whipped around and Jack continued, "we do not have the manpower to detain people. Just turn them out. Make it the local PD's problem."

"Sorry, sir," he gave a curt nod and ducked through a door, pressing his finger to his ear. Jack growled something under his breath that I didn't catch.

"No," Elodie was next, her voice rising behind me. "She knows every single hiding spot on these grounds. Do not lose sight of her for a single second. Send Mila into the bathroom with her."

"Right away," one of the Order guards replied and brushed past us, lengthening his stride to almost a jog.

"She already tried to duck out of this," Elodie growled and started jabbing things into her phone. I was almost positive it was a warning to Anya. I wanted to laugh, but Gemma was tapping her clipboard next to me,

"Where do you want the extra tables set?"

I reached up to try and adjust a bobby pin in thought as we all paused before the double doors that led to the grand staircase.

"Just how many people are trying to crash this? We have a guest list and a team of security in front."

"Other than everyone?" Elodie drawled and slapped my hands away from my perfectly styled hair. I glared at her before taking a breath, thinking, and then shook my head,

"Fuck 'em. Don't set any. Every table setting has monogrammed napkins. Make them all drink standing up and get full off hors d'oeuvres. Easier to identify who let in leeches and punish them for it."

"Ma'am," she gave me a quick bow and threw open the double doors before us. The three of us caught a moment's glance of what was waiting as the doors swung shut - a sea of chattering people and the cloying smell of a Rose Parade's worth of flowers. The panic rose in me again and I forced a breath through my mouth, the smell still overwhelming, triggering memories of the hospital at the very back of my mind.

Jack and Elodie went to follow Gemma but I flung my hands out and grabbed their arms, squeezing hard. I looked up and down the now empty hallway and quietly said,

"One more time."

Elodie's free hand immediately came up to grab my own, squeezing back just as fiercely while Jack carefully, and lowly, repeated,

"Heathrow to Casablanca to Florianópolis. Then we'll meet you in São Paulo. After we confirm the Order has Anya."

I let out the breath I'd been holding loudly and released my hold on them to shake out my hands.

"It won't come to that." Elodie flatly added. I wanted to believe her...and yet he still wasn't here.

Looking up and down the hallway again I spun my diamond ring around my finger twice and gave myself a final moment to feel the nerves. We'd still be hidden from all the guests once we went through these doors - but not all the staff. This was the point of no return. I pushed them open before I could change my mind.

The grand entrance to Riberton had been transformed to look like a modernized baroque painting. Huge Waterford crystal chandeliers had been installed the distance of the hallway toward the ballroom and adjacent rooms for the Leap Year Ball. They threw a romantic glow onto the translucent glass-paneled walls filled with velvet colored roses running the length of the red carpet to guide all the guests toward the main event. Every few feet were champagne and some micro gastronomic invention to entice them. People were congregating around each of these stops, noshing and judging each other's couture. From my vantage point, you could even see the hundreds of lanterns in the front yard reflecting in the wax jobs on all the luxury sports cars purring past the roundabout to be parked onto the race track.

The plan had been for Stellan and me to walk this carpet together. We'd even hired some kind of town crier that announced people as they entered the ballroom. But we'd had to scrap both of those now. Instead, I was going to take the staff entrance to the ballroom and just sort of appear out of thin air and act like I'd always been there. Luc was going to help with that. Then pretend like I'd been separated from Stellan and would catch up with him later. And pray that everyone was too drunk to notice, hence the booze every few feet.

I caught myself in a mirror for a moment and was transfixed. Black. Everything but my perfectly red lips and matching nails was so dark. The gown had been custom-made for this event by a designer I couldn't even pronounce the name of. It was floor-length, with a full skirt and a four-foot train in contrasting layers of black tulle and Chantilly lace. The plunging v-neckline, illusion long sleeves, see-through bodice, and backless nature of the dress fit right in line with Elodie's constant need for me to appear to look naked in ballgowns. At my request, my hair had been swept completely up and off my shoulders into an updo that looked effortless but had taken hours for them to get in place. I looked dangerous and miserable and that seemed just about right until I heard thundering footsteps and,

"Avery!"

We all turned to see Anya racing toward us, her billowing silk purple dress floating behind her. She threw herself against me, almost getting lost in the layers of the skirt of my ball gown, the black swallowing her. I instantly wanted to pull her away, didn't want any of my darkness, even my dress, to touch her. I stilled the urge and instead bent down toward the ground so I could give her a genuine hug.

"I've missed you!" She brightly exclaimed and a knot formed in my throat. It felt so wrong to keep lying to her. The panic rose in me again - what if this was the last time I'd ever see her again?

"Me too," I exhaled, squeezing her tighter and longer than necessary before I let her go. I smoothed all the layers of my dress back down as I stood and she reached for my free hand dragging me down the hallway, Jack and Elodie falling into step behind us. I took a deep breath to fight off the tears.

"So much has happened! I have so much to tell you. Once you do your dance thing you need to sit next to me so we can talk to each other." She squeezed my hand.

"Of course! I can't wait to hear everything." I replied and then bit my tongue. She let go and skipped off down the hall toward the growing noise, Elodie closely behind, snapping things at her that Anya rolled her eyes at. It made a little laugh break up all the terror in my throat. Jack's warm hand grabbed my tricep and squeezed,

"Alright then."

I nodded and we paused at the door Elodie and Anya had just gone through. Last chance. I shoved my hands into the pockets of my ball gown feeling my phone and the switchblade. I squeezed them both as hard as I could and whispered,

"Nothing?"

Jack rubbed at his compass tattoo over his tux and shook his head. His stormy, gray, eyes looking pointedly at my scar, hidden under all the lace of my ball gown, I shook my head. The fear percolated through my body like champagne bubbles. I closed my eyes, mentally planning my escape route - through the salon bathroom's hidden door, take the west wing secret hallway to the garage where Roberts will be waiting. It wouldn't come to that. It couldn't.

"Alright."

I opened my eyes and plastered on the Circle smile as I straightened my shoulders. Jack held the door open with one hand, his other on his earpiece announcing our movement as I crossed the threshold into the hallway. We were at the corner everyone took to enter into the ballroom, bypassing the salon that had been staged as the coatroom and the gallery filled with Circle suck-ups wanting a first-hand look at all the treasures Alistar Saxon had been hiding for decades. From my vantage point, I couldn't make out any familiar faces and moved into the ballroom, Jack a half step behind me.

Gemma's checklist of doom had really paid off. I'd taken a peek, of course, this morning, but it was a pale comparison to the scene before me now. Large swaths of midnight blue silk draped from the ceiling, mixing with thousands of tiny string lights. If you weren't paying attention you might even think we were outside and they were stars. They all swept dramatically upward toward the chandeliers, evenly spaced above the highly waxed hardwood floors. The chamber ensemble from the London Symphony Orchestra was in full swing, the music weaving through the conversation at a comfortable level. Tables had been staged to form a large square in front of them, currently empty. My stomach knotted. Historically speaking, no one was supposed to dance before Stellan and me.

I turned away from it, instead noting the dozen or so bartenders frantically moving behind the translucent wall of glass holding the stockpile of booze we'd acquired for this. Above them was a light installation running the length of the bar with actual lilacs, gardena and evergreen branches hiding the hardware and filling the room with their fragrance. It mixed with all the perfume and aftershave as bright shrieks of laughter punctuated the constant mummer of the crowd. Waiters and waitresses were already clearing away the five-course dinner we'd provided a little ahead of schedule - another stall tactic for Stellan's absence. Guests were now lounging about on the custom violet velvet couches along the walls or sitting at their empty tables.

It was hard to tell just how many people were actually here. The ballroom was vast and the tables stretched back as far as I could see to the second bar in the back. Each table only sat six, purposefully, to create an air of intimacy when you had a guest list that was pushing 500. The table cloths, chairs and even the plates were all in black. It made the centerpieces even more alluring - dusty pink peonies with bright white hydrangeas mixed with pale yellow orchids and dramatic lotus flowers. I was taking a closer look at the blood-red monogramming on the napkins when someone squeezed my elbow. The breath caught in my throat and I froze, terrified.

"_Ma reine_," Luc brightly exclaimed, causing quite a few heads to snap in my direction. He gave me a second squeeze as he loudly continued, "I have been looking all over for you!"

He swung around to face me, the intense look in his purple eyes mirroring my own. I tried to tell him thank you telepathically while I exhaled,

"Hopefully not too long."

"I've been entertained," he laughed, snatching a glass of champagne and offering it to me. I shook my head. There would be no drinking tonight. He took three large gulps, his hand shaking a little with the motion and my nerves ballooned in my chest again. _No. No. He couldn't be nervous. If he was nervous_…

"Your Majesty," someone said behind him. I couldn't even catch who it was because people started bowing around me, even Luc. He leveled me a raised eyebrow and ducked off, his task complete. I folded my hands in front of myself so I wasn't tempted to grab him. I wanted Luc to stay as close to me as Jack was. But people associated Stellan with him, so he had to be a ghost for this until Stellan showed up. Because Stellan had to show up.

Jack covertly nudged me and I plastered the smile back on and tried to concentrate on the barrage of questions pelting me at once. Who was I wearing? How did we get so many peonies this time of year? Had we hired every event planner in the country for this? I smiled and laughed and answered each one with the ease and grace of a Stepford wife. It was the best I could manage. Most of these people weren't even Circle heads or heirs, just underlings vying for their one shot to get close to me.

I didn't even have to work the room. They came to me. Wave after wave of them, asking the same vapid questions in their enthralled, drunken, tones. The group grew, stacked behind each other as people tried to impress me with increasingly irrelevant stories. It made me weary, my feet already aching from standing still for so long. The buzz of my phone in my pocket was a welcomed distraction, but I didn't dare pull it out. If it was about anything other than Stellan finally showing up I wouldn't be able to hide my reaction, and then we'd be screwed.

My usual nightmares had been tame compared to the ones I'd woken up gasping from since Russia. I'd wake up covered in sweat, dread tightening my throat in my twisted sheets trying to wipe away the absolute terror of this night. Of the simple mistakes that could murder us all. Nightmares about how I'd fall apart in front of all the Circle heads. Or that I'd freeze up and create suspicion. Or worse - if Stellan did show up and I felt nothing at all. That he'd look at me like I was a stranger. That we'd murdered anything left between us and everyone would see. But the worst of all - the one that continued to haunt me even as I stood in front of all these people - that he'd be so good at pretending that I'd believe him and once everyone had left so would he, and destroy me all over again. Because despite knowing I shouldn't, despite burying the need deep inside myself - I couldn't deny that what I really wanted, in the end, was him.

Some Wang cousin offered me a flute of champagne, despite having just declined one not even five minutes before and I shook my head,

"No, thank you."

"Surely you can have one drink!" Rebecca Fredrick slurred over all the polite conversation. "It is the biggest party of the year! Unless there is a little growing surprise you're not telling us about."

She gave me a sloppy wink, from her belligerent glassy eyes and I startled backward a little. The conversation screeched to a halt, everyone staring at Rebecca until she became red. _Vultures._ I'm sure the lot of them were happy she was the one that had been drunk enough to say it. I held the silence even longer, watching her squirm and feeding off the energy of her embarrassment. I sucked it into the pulsing, aching hole in my chest hoping it would band-aid it when the focus shifted to behind me.

Familiar, long, warm, fingers slide down the length of my spine and my heart actually stopped in my chest.

"Rebecca," he drawled. "Nice to see you still have a tendency to embarrass yourself."

The crowd let out a nervous laugh. She started to apologize, the words lost to me as his hot palm settled on the small of my back. I pressed into it, trying to act naturally, he pressed back and a wave of goosebumps flushed across my skin. He shifted slightly and the familiar smell his aftershave choked me. My body started to shut down in panic. The room blurred, the conversation buzzed out to white noise. I tried to fight against it, shifting in his touch again only to feel his thumb rub little circles of reassurance like he used to do. The panic ratcheted up into high gear. I had to get out of here.

Everyone laughed, it startled me back into my body, I blankly smiled. His fingers curled around my hip guiding me away from the group, and I let him, still gathering my senses. I hadn't even heard him say we were leaving and bit the inside of my lip trying to snap out of it. I couldn't even trust myself to look over at him. I'd been expecting overwhelming relief to wash out the absolute nutcase I'd become leading up to this - but it all just held fast inside me, tight, painful, and brittle.

He weaved us around the party, both of us nodding and giving single word responses as we made it closer and closer to the dance floor in front of the orchestra. It felt alarmingly familiar, like deja vu - the people, the gowns, the vapid conversation. Even my uncomfortable shoes. But I couldn't remember ever feeling like I needed to simultaneously scream and cry at the prospect of dancing. With a nod toward the conductor, the song slowly came to an end and there was a moment of silence, drawing everyone's attention toward the front. As it spread toward the back and everyone realized what was going on I took a deep breath.

Now we could get through the crucial part of the night. He was here. We would dance in front of the whole Circle, and then make all the drinks doubles in hopes of pouring everyone out of Riberton sooner rather than later. Everything else could be sorted after that if I didn't somehow manage to mess up the next four minutes. The conductor started monologuing about the piece of music we'd commissioned them to write months ago. It was some kind of waltz, and despite reminding me of Swan Lake I still had problems memorizing the turns. I mentally went through the steps when Stellan leaned down toward me to whisper in my ear,

"Just keep your arms tight and let me lead."

"Okay," I breathed back forcing myself not to pull away from him. I could feel every set of eyes in this ballroom burning into my exposed back. I'd have to do something more than just stand obediently next to him. I smiled up at him like he'd just whispered something endearing, my eyes focused on his chin. Because if I looked in his eyes, if I actually took in his face, it would destroy me. His fingers contracted against my hip for a flash of a moment and then the ballroom filled with applause as he escorted me out onto the center of the floor.

The spotlights were blindingly bright, making the majority of the crowd darken around us, which was not helping my nerves. He gently grabbed onto the fingers of my left hand, raising them up for a little kiss before he dropped them and bowed to me. We'd practiced this part, a little tease for the crowd that Elodie had designed. In return I gave him my best, deep, curtsey, making sure the black gossamer of my ball gown spread wide around me. We were supposed to smile at each other after it - but I couldn't. Instead, I looked directly at the third button on his tux shirt as his hands gracefully extended out to put me into position.

I sucked in a breath of surprise. They were covered in new scars that snaked up toward his wrists and his father's watch. Tears flooded my eyes, prickly and hot. But there wasn't time for that. The music started and he gave me one firm tug closer to himself, trying to remind me to let him lead. I wasn't sure if I could. We fumbled through the first couple of steps, not used to the size of my gown, or even being this close to each other. I tried to start mentally counting to myself.

_One, two, three. Why was he wearing it? One, two, three. To spite me? To throw me off my game? One, two, three. To mock me? One, two, three. _

Stellan gave me a little jerk back into the right placement as we started one of the complicated turns in our choreographed dance.

_He was going to use it against me. One, two, three. Why else would he only show up at the last minute? One, two, three. And the scars...two, three. What were they from? One, two, three. What did it all mean? One, two, three. _

He corrected me again, pulling me closer to himself as we swirled across the floor. My feet tripping over themselves on one of the turns. It made him hold me firmer, his palm sliding to mid-back so he could steady me. We made one final, tight, turn. My dress dramatically swept around both of us and I looked up at his chin again as we stopped. Applause thundered through the ballroom. I held my breath so you couldn't tell how winded I was. My slowly recovering heart wasn't supposed to take this much stress. But I'd have it explode in my chest before I'd put everyone in danger again. I could suffer through some tachycardia for a night.

I was desperate for gulps of air. Trying to force them through my nose was making my dizziness double. I grabbed onto his arm and his hand came up to support me. If it was because he thought I was acting, or he'd noticed I was inching toward fainting I couldn't be sure. But I couldn't trust myself until I could get some breaths in and away from all these squinting eyes trying to find the cracks in our armor. We nodded toward the congratulations as we passed, making our way over to Jack and Elodie, who had strategically positioned themselves in front of an escape route for me.

The dance floor filled with couples, now eager to show off in front of all their peers. Their liquid courage and god knew what else, fueling their bravado. As we made our final approach I watched Elodie and Jack both glare at different people so dismissively that I wanted to laugh. But I couldn't risk the breath.

We held for a beat, staring at each other, the four of us finally together again. Looking exactly the same, but strangers from the fallout. With far too much to say and no way to say it.

"That bad huh?" Stellan flatly deadpanned, breaking the silence.

"Don't you fucking dare," Elodie hissed through her teeth at him, her eyes shining like she might cry.

"El," Jack lowly warned her, but he wasn't looking all that charitable either.

From the corner of my eye, I caught Valentina slithering through the crowd toward us and I leaned into Stellan laying my head on his shoulder. I commanded through my plastered smile,

"Can we reign it back in, please?"

Jack glanced behind himself and we exchanged a look as Valentina drew closer. But his eyes narrowed and it was only then that I realized Stellan's fingers had crept possessively around my waist, his thumb running quick circles on my lower back. I shifted in his hold and he startled a bit as he noticed it too, surprised by his hands being on autopilot. But before I could move away I felt him shift, fingers squeezing me closer and then his lips dusted at my hairline. Zara Koning, as planned, intercepted the coming threat of Valentina, ushering her in the opposite direction. But I was reeling.

His kiss had stabbed right into the very heart of me. I smiled broader as everything started to build in my chest, like a supernova. I had to get out of here. His ability to create mock normalcy was going to be the thing that destroyed me. That had been a step too far.

"If you don't mind," I forced myself out of his hands. "I need to find Anya. We have a lot to catch up on."

"Oh, ah," he stuttered and shoved his fists into his pockets. "I'm sure you do."

I moved away from him as quickly as I could, tightly smiling as I made my way past some tables and through the side door I knew lead out to the back hallway. I could escape, I could escape for a moment, feign needing to use the bathroom as I tried to compose myself.

I stumbled into the hallway, leaned against the wall, struggling to suck in breath after breath - trying to stop myself from crying. I dug my nails into my palm until I was sure I was about to draw blood and felt the panic slowly dissipate. The pain distracting me from my meltdown. I shook out my left hand so I could press it to my thready heartbeat banging away against my flushed chest.

The door flew open next to me with a bang and I startled away from it, gasping even harder now as Elodie, Jack, and Stellan stumbled in with a furious looking Luc slamming the door shut behind them all. He was berating them in French, something about being stupid, careless children.

"Luc," I shouted over him, "_qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?_"

The boys all jerked in surprise in front of me, stunned into silence until Luc answered, "_vous pouvez parler français?_"

"_Évidemment_," I rolled my eyes at him and then glanced to my right to see Elodie's smug smile. "Make this quick, we can't all ditch the party at once."

"Someone," Elodie snarled, "had the audacity to think he could order us around."

Stellan crossed his arms, tightly, over his chest and this flash of panic rocketed through me. I even bared down, bracing for the impact the pain in my arm was going to cause me in his angered state. But there wasn't anything. Instead, Luc scowled as he leaned against the wall, eyeing Jack who squared off against Stellan.

"And he also didn't appreciate being reminded how little power deserters hold in the Circle."

"For fuck's sake," I grumbled under my breath. We were really gonna do this now? Were they 12? No, younger. Because even Anya would know this wasn't the time or the place to be having a drag-out fight about all this.

"Last time I checked," Stellan rose to his full height as he glared at Jack, "I'm still the decedent of Alexander the Great and half of the 13th Family. So maybe you need to watch your tone with me in a room full of Circle spies."

"I don't take orders from you anymore." Jack darkly countered, balling his fists at his side.

"Now who's the deserter?" Stellan gave him a dangerous looking smile and tacked on, "so you only listen to my wife now?"

"Don't you call her that!" Elodie yelled at him, taking a few furious steps toward him before I threw a hand out to stop her. This was taking a very weird turn. Luc and I glanced at each other for a fraction of a second but he looked just as angry.

"The wife that's had nothing but nightmares about what you did to her?" Jack demanded. "That might have to get a pacemaker now because of you?"

The hallway went silent and I froze, swallowing hard as their eyes all snapped to me.

"The wife that was still miscarrying your baby when you murdered her again?" Jack spat the last word out and Stellan went sheet white and dropped his arms, shaking out his fists as Luc let out an audible gasp next to him.

I owed Jack and Elodie more than I'd ever be able to repay - even with everything that had been given to me. But that was never going to be something I'd allow them to hold over Stellan. That was a burden we would always have to carry on our own.

"Stop," I ordered him. He locked aggravated eyes onto me but I shook my head and he clenched his jaw tight.

"You saw what I did to that room," Stellan said, his head bowed toward his shiny black dress shoes as he shook his fists again. "I tried. But I didn't know how to get back."

"You find a way back you fucking coward!" Elodie growled and lunged toward him.

Stellan threw his arms out, palms forward to try and stop her. She flinched away and in the very next second Jack's fist connected with Stellan's jaw and the two of them went stumbling into Luc and the wall. They were this jumble of blocked pushes and strong arms trying to separate everyone from each other. Elodie even jumped toward the fray.

I turned on my heels, my ball gown swinging around me and stomped away from all their childish antics. Maybe they needed this, but it wasn't going to fucking solve anything. If anything now we'd have to explain why everyone looked like they'd gotten into a bar fight to all the drunk Circle members desperate to get any kind of gossip on us.

I hit the second secret door that was at the back of the ballroom, near the second bar. Slipping into the shadows no one noticed me reappearing and I took the moment of secrecy to reset and plaster the Circle smile back on so I could start working the room again.

I took a few laps around the dance floor nodding politely but avoiding conversation before finding the dessert table in the back of the venue. I finally found Anya in the center of a group of kids. The ages varied, Anya being one of the youngest in the group, but she held everyone's rapt attention as she continued on whatever story she was weaving. Most likely the story of why she still had her sparkly purple cast on. I hung back a little, not wanting to interrupt her, but she spotted me and stopped mid-sentence,

"I'm sorry. I have to go," she told the group and broke from the crowd toward me. They broke into whispers as Anya and I moved back toward the desserts. She skipped toward the dessert spread and started making her selections as I found us an empty table.

"You could have stayed," I offered as we sat. She had grabbed an entire plate of macaroons and was turning the plate slowly to admire them all before crinkling her nose in mock disgust,

"They don't care, just wanted to be around me because of who I am."

"Oh really?" I let my disappointment leak out with my reply. She blushed a little and then shrugged and shoved a macaroon into her mouth. I waited until she swallowed before I continued, "I hope you haven't been ignoring all my advice."

"Of course not, Avery," she sighed dramatically. "I remember everything you say."

"I hope so." I crossed my arms over my chest and saw someone approach us. I glared at the man, I think he was a relative of the Fredrick's. He quickly turned to his left, leaving us alone. Anya grabbed another macaroon and smirked at me.

"Do as I say not as I do," she retorted and took a bite out of the purple and gold-foil confection.

"When you are the head of the 13th Family you can be mean to everyone too." I settled back against the chair and sighed. Anya stifled a yawn behind her hand and then nodded laughing to herself. I looked up at the clock - almost midnight. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Special occasion - special bedtime." She smiled and then yawned again. "Besides I had to tell you my big news!"

"Please," I bowed my head toward her trying to hide the wave of panic that was making my lungs shake. I wrapped my arms tighter around my chest. I realized then it was the anxiety of the unknown. I had no idea if she'd heard any of these whispers in the weeks that he'd been gone. Or if she'd noticed all the extra security we'd put on her. Or worse, what if she wanted to ask me about it now, in front of all these people, when I felt like I was going to shatter?

"I have the lead in the play for our year!" She threw her hands out and I shot from my seat and pulled her into a tight hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" I kept squeezing her in spite of her squirmy struggles away from me.

"Let go!" She laughed. She squirmed some more until I released her and she sat back down. I sat as well and beamed at her. "It was close but the professor said I had better range. You and Stellan are going to come right?"

It thudded into my chest like an arrow, right where my heart should have been. I automatically smiled, my ingrained response now, and started nodding toward her. She knew nothing. No one had told her. And even though the thought of having to do anything with Stellan made me feel like I was going to combust all over again I swallowed and evenly said, "of course we'll be there."

"Great," she yawned again and then rubbed at her eyes. She looked around and at the thinning crowd, her audience included. "I think I'm going to go to bed now."

"That's probably a good idea." I reached across the table and pulled the plate of dessert away from her. She snatched a final macaroon then stood and closed the space between us to give me a long hug.

"See you tomorrow." She squeezed me and then wandered around the empty tables toward one of the back doors that led into the manor. I saw two of our security detail emerge from the shadows and follow her out, pressing fingers to their ears and speaking lowly.

I looked back out at the party. Surprised to find that it was mostly wait staff now bussing the tables. The orchestra was almost done packing up, but a tight knot of tuxes were on the opposite side of the ballroom from me. All of them invested in some kind of story being told. I shifted in my seat to try and get a better look at who it was when I felt a pair of arms wrap around my shoulders and give me a squeeze,

"Sorry, I'm late!"

I closed my eyes and held the breath of relief I wanted to let out. If I let it out I might burst into tears, and there were still far too many people here to let that happen. Her perfume fell over me and I reached up and grabbed onto the arms of Colette and squeezed.

"You could never be late." I forced a laugh. She squeezed and then let out a laugh of her own releasing me and moving into Anya's vacant spot.

"There was a three-hour delay in Morocco - no one could tell me why. Sorry I wasn't here for all the festivities. Or really dressed for it." She looked down at her curve-hugging shift and shrugged. She looked better than most of these Circle wives had with their designer ball gowns and that made me laugh again.

"Stop apologizing." I smiled.

"Femme fatale," she smirked at me inclining her head toward my fingers. I tapped my left fingers across my arm and nodded.

"Needed the inspiration," I honestly replied.

"I leave for a few months and come back to you looking like a prima ballerina all dramatic looking, giant ball gown, pale and…" Colette's smile slid off her face as she really took me in for the first time. "Thin."

From the corner of my eye, I saw the group start to break apart, enough people leaving to see a gleam of blond hair at the center. I swallowed hard and then focused back on Colette.

"You look great. Africa is suiting you well."

"Why are you so thin Avery?" She continued, ignoring my compliment altogether. I looked toward the group again, more people breaking away, but a conversation still taking place at the center.

"Maybe it's just the dress. It's giving me lines I didn't even know I had." I pressed my hands into my sides to further illustrate. Colette stood, moved her chair closer, sat back down and then quietly asked this time.

"What happened? Why didn't you call me?"

"I tried," I whispered back, folding my hands into the layers of my dress. "You were out of range. Your publicist said you'd be unreachable until you broke for this party."

She bit her lip and let out an exasperated noise in her throat, "I knew I should have demanded that satellite phone."

"I didn't want to bother you with all this. I couldn't pull you back in when you'd asked to make a clean break. I wanted to respect your needs, Colette." I dug my nails into my palms again feeling the tears well inside me. I couldn't look at her, I couldn't look at the group breaking up further in the corner. I glared at my palms waiting to see the blood, I was going to break the skin I was digging in so deep.

"But I'm still your friend," she put her hand over my own and I felt the tears pooling in my eyes. "Is there something you have to tell me now?"

"I don't even know where to start at this point." I sighed and released my hands examining the deep red marks on my palms.

"Wait," she looked around the emptying ballroom for a moment, "where is Stellan? Why isn't he on top of you like usual?"

"The Maldives didn't go so well." I sniffled toward my hands. Colette snatched her hands back so quickly that I looked up at her, concerned. She'd put them over her mouth and was shaking her head,

"No." Her face dropped. "He broke you."

For her to guess it so exactly, and to hear it out loud for the first time, made the onslaught of chained emotions push against the containment walls in my brain. This was a dangerous conversation to be having in the open. I tried to redirect it,

"I heard the shooting schedule almost broke you." I gave her my best fake smile. She looked around us, suspiciously, and then moved even closer. I chanced another glance at the group. Stellan was finishing up with two men now, their conversation just muted noise across the ballroom. We were alone on our own side.

"How could he fuck up a Christmas holiday?" Colette angrily snapped and glared at Stellan across the room. The guilt and panic and anger slammed against my restraint and I tried my best to stay even and pragmatic,

"To be fair we broke each other."

"Each other?" She looked toward him again. "How could that have possibly happened?"

"I could have handled my miscarriage better," I offered and kept my eyes on the pair of men in the group. They were starting to shift around on their feet - this would be over soon. Colette's shocked gasp snapped my attention away.

"Miscarriage?" She whispered and put a hand on my knee. "Are you alright? Avery, what the hell is going on?"

Colette's gasp had made the group look toward us and I knew Stellan had caught me staring at them. I turned myself back to Colette shaking my head. I gave her a big, fake, laugh. The group turned back around. Taking a breath I pressed my lips together, feeling the first tear break down my face. She opened her mouth a little, and then snapped it shut, the realization dawning on her. We couldn't talk about this here. We were being watched. I smiled tightly trying to throw the group off, swiping the tear away and tucking a flyaway in the same motion before whispering back,

"I had them fly in brunch from that pastry shop you love in Paris."

"You didn't have to do that, I could have just had coffee with you." She looked toward Stellan, though I didn't join her. I didn't have to, I could sense him moving toward us.

"What's the point of all this money if I can't spoil my friends?" I tacked on a hollow laugh at the end. She frowned at me,

"Are you sure you…"

I saw him getting close and stood, "do you need someone to show you to your room?"

I snapped my fingers and one of the members of my security detail emerged from the shadows. I inclined my head toward her, he silently waited to escort her.

"Avery," she whispered, her eyebrows furrowed with worry. Stellan was half-way across the floor now. I leaned forward and hugged her tightly, my voice wobbly and thick with tears as I said,

"Please don't say anything. There is a lot you don't know. I'm really glad you're here."

"Whatever you want." She hugged me back and then stood, allowing herself to be led away.

Stellan stopped in the middle of the dance floor, a little bewildered, and then met eyes with me. It was the first time we could look at each other without an audience all night and it made my heart flip in my chest again. Suddenly I was back on the deck of the Eiffel Tower. Another useless Circle party. Another expensive dress. And him, looking just as handsome and dangerous, moving toward me. I stopped the memory, shook myself out of it. But my heart was hammering in my chest, making me flush. His eyes poured over the flush and even from across the room I could almost feel his warm fingers sliding, up, up, up toward my hair. I exhaled, hard, he clenched his fists at his side.

I looked around the empty venue, messy table cloths, discarded desserts, stacked chairs, champagne flutes soiled with lipstick. Success, in other words. We'd done it - and now he could leave again. The click of his shoes echoed across the empty dance floor as he took a few more steps toward me and my supernova heart burned white in my chest. I was ready now, to allow myself to really look at him and implode. He didn't disappoint. His face was thinner and paler than I'd ever remembered, and it just made him look even more attractive somehow. But the eyes - his eyes held more in them than anything I was ready to deal with. This devastation that mixed with quiet resolve in the beautiful deep blue. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't.

We might have succeeded in tricking the Circle, but the walls still had eyes here. I needed to leave before I shattered the illusion with tears. But I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know that everything I'd done in his absence had come from a place of subjugation - for Anya, for him, for everyone. The gesture I'd grown to despise flashed in front of my eyes.

With a deep bow of my head, eyes down at the floor, I took a breath before looking up.

"Your Majesty," I quietly and evenly said.

He frowned, gave me a quick nod back and took a breath as if to say something. I couldn't let him do that. I wouldn't be able to keep it together. I turned my back to him and rushed out the side door as fast as I could. Leaving him standing there, alone, in the middle of the empty ballroom.


	35. Chapter 34

At 3 AM I just couldn't pretend anymore. I was sick of the orange sheets twisting around my legs as I tossed and turned. I wasn't even tired, and I knew why. I was mentally and physically wrung out. I wasn't sure I was ready for whatever came next, the inevitable fallout that was surely coming.

I half expected to see Elodie forcing him into the room at knifepoint. Or even for Jack and Elodie to come bursting through the door asking if they could shoot him now. Luc and Colette entering with an armful of booze would have made sense as well. But I was alone, and I was terrified to figure out what that meant. Every wild scenario I'd been imagining couldn't dampen my panic at the Occam's Razor of it all. He wasn't standing in my doorway because he'd already left. And now I was going to have to tell Anya.

The only reason I had a small sliver of hope was that I didn't have a dozen Order guards in my room right now demanding to know where he went. So he was here...somewhere. I shook off the notion that Jack and Roberts strong-armed him to the basement. Instead, I could visualize him wandering the halls of Riberton with a tumbler of vodka and ice clinking in his hand, deciding which wing of this property he was going to claim for his own now. It was the only thing that made sense. Everyone falls back on old patterns, right?

But in my heart, I couldn't see him doing that either. I could feel it in the way he held me while we danced tonight, the way his eyes burned my skin when he looked at me. A part of me felt guilty over the bow, but I needed him to know I'd changed. Maybe that's why he didn't want to talk to me, I wasn't the same girl he left behind. The thought was infuriating though. Hadn't this changed him as well? Shaken him down to his very core as it had for me? We had so much left unsaid between us. But this was exactly what all my nightmares had been about - he'd come back, but not for me.

Giving up on sleep completely I tossed the covers off and grabbed my glasses and a hairband off my nightstand as I stood. Padding across the carpet in my bare feet the bedroom door creaked as it opened. It was eerily quiet. Honestly, how could anyone be able to sleep after all that? It had been this insane rollercoaster of adrenaline and cortisol for me, and I hadn't been part of the actual fistfight. I peeked into a couple rooms on my way toward the kitchen, hoping someone was up so I could get some answers. Dark and empty. Where the hell had they stashed Colette? The main house? I contemplated heading toward Elodie's room but immediately decided against it. One more shock to my system might actually give me a heart attack right now.

Rounding the corner into the living room the muted TV bathed the room in a bluish glow. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I looked around for the remote to turn off Sports Center, but instead...I found him. Still in his tux, bowtie hanging loosely around the collar of his shirt, and using his jacket as a blanket, he was frowning in his sleep. And my heart swelled against my ribcage, thumping wildly at the sight of him. I wasn't sure if I was ready for this. I looked around to see if Luc was in here, but we were alone. No one was here to run interference or tell me lines to say. I didn't know what to do. Walk away? Wake him up and shout? Hug him fiercely?

I stood quietly in the doorway studying him, how he scrunched his forehead and air escaped his lips. Memories of watching him sleep flooded me, overwhelming and crystal clear. They stretched all the way back to the beginning of us - on the train, morphed into opulent beds in hotels and villas, plunged into couches in hospitals and finally settled into the comfort of the bed I'd just left. I'd spent months watching him sleep, marveling at the wonder of how this simple act had come to mean so much to me. Stability. He was there, every morning, no matter what had happened that night. He was someone I could lean on, rely on, count on to be there for me while everything else in my world continued to fall apart in my hands. Until he wasn't anymore. Because no matter how infallible he'd seemed to me he really was human. Just like me.

It didn't excuse all he'd done to us. I felt the anger bubble as I recalled everything - the lies he'd spun around me in his misguided attempts to protect me, the wedge he'd forced between Jack and Elodie and myself to keep those lies intact, the danger he'd put everyone in by leaving. They were all things we'd have to work through. I sighed as I moved closer to where his long frame had somehow managed to fold itself onto the couch. He didn't look so guilty of all those things when he slept. But we couldn't pick up where we left off, broken in another hospital room. Despite the twinge of anger and hurt simmering in my veins, I couldn't deny seeing him like this, knowing he hadn't left made me want to curl up beside him, to be with him. Maybe we could start over. Now that the playing field was finally level it might be the perfect place to begin. My heart ached at the possibility of it - I still loved him. Even if it was going to be the thing that finally destroyed me, destroyed all of us. I needed to wake up next to him.

My breathing was so quick I had to sit down. I tried, as carefully as I could, to move to the love seat, but could only make it as far as the coffee table. I managed to sit soundlessly, but when I shifted so I wasn't on the edge it caused the stack of magazines no one ever read to slide off onto the floor. His eyes shot open and I instinctively clenched my left fist, ready for the spike of pain. But nothing happened. His face dropped into realization as his eyes adjusted and he sat up, instantly, his jacket falling to the ground.

"Are you real?" He whispered.

I nodded in response, unable to say anything from the giant lump that had formed in my throat. Had it been happening to him too? The lucid nightmares that tricked you into thinking everything hadn't exploded?

He rubbed at his face, the five o'clock shadow scratching against his hand and then ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make himself look a little more presentable for me. His left hand grabbed the end of his bowtie and pulled it off, his ring and the face of his watch catching in the light from the TV. But my eyes were pouring over his arms. He'd rolled the sleeves up on his tux shirt and all of his new scars were exposed to me now.

"You stayed," I whispered back, feeling utterly exposed and raw.

"I stayed," he quietly said, our eyes locking. He swallowed hard and pressed his lips together as the two of us flickered from blue to yellow to red from the changing commercials.

"Thank you for staying."

"There is nowhere else I'd rather be," he said and reached forward across the small space between us for the stiff tendril of hair that had come loose. I held my breath, terrified and exhilarated all in the same moment. But he pulled his hand back and clenched his fist as he cleared his throat to ask,

"No more pink?"

I knew he'd notice that. I'd almost bit through my lip when the stylist had erased it to stop myself from crying in front of her. But I couldn't be that girl anymore - naive, gullible, vulnerable. The pink was the last vestige of who I'd been. But I suppose his new scars were his. If he had finally controlled the power that was always ebbing through him he certainly couldn't have remained the man I remembered - indifferent, unaffected, unattached. You didn't get scars like that from ignoring your destiny.

"So that's how you snuck up on us tonight," I nodded toward his hands.

"Us?" He wondered, curling his fingers into loose hanging fists.

"I had to tell Jack and Elodie. Because of…" I trailed off.

"Russia."

We both went quiet but I couldn't help my curiosity, "how close were you that night?"

"I was there," he frowned down at his hands, "in another part of the palace. I thought I was ready."

"But then the Meleck's again."

It rolled up through the very center of me, held back only from my clenched teeth and tight lips. I wanted to tell him I wished it had been him that shot David Meleck. I wanted to tell him how lonely I'd been, how angry I still was, how desperate I was to have everything go back to normal. And how crushed I felt to look at these new scars and know that reality was just another memory now. Another lifetime. Another version of ourselves we can never go back to. He studied my face in the quiet and I could see in his eyes he felt the same. I wasn't the girl he'd saved almost a year ago. But neither of us knew what that meant now.

"I kept trying to come back, you need to know that - you must have known."

I shook my head, "just Russia."

The room filled with silence, but to my surprise, it didn't feel uncomfortable or confrontational. It was what it was. We'd both been through a lot over the past few weeks, his scars were evidence of that.

"Thank you," he continued his head lowering in embarrassment, "for looking after Anya while I was…" he couldn't finish the sentence.

"Of course. She is mine and I am hers. I will always do everything in my power to protect her."

"I'm proud of you, Avery." He looked back up at me. "You've accomplished so much in spite of everything constantly being ruined around you."

_Like you?_ I thought, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I flushed at his praise, feeling it burn up my neck and onto my cheeks. My stomach flipped with nerves and then agitation at how easy it remained for him to fluster me. But at least now I didn't clam up and shrink away from him. People weren't as intimidating when you knew all the places they were broken.

I paused to take a deep breath, contemplating what I wanted to say next, "Stellan," I said waiting for him to look me in the eyes, "how did you do it?"

"Do what?"

I guess it was a loaded question. The list of everything I'd been burning to know filtered through my mind. _Escape our second story hospital room? Flee the scene when there were already ten Order and Saxon security guards canvassing the place? Evade every attempt to find you? Not breathe a single word of this to Anya? Keep it a secret even from the Circle? Figure out how to control it? Without me helping you? Make it back to me? How do you always find me when I need you most?_

I carefully reached forward and grabbed his hands, running my thumbs over all the new scars. They were mostly iridescent now, though a few higher up his forearms were still that healing pink color. We'd managed to keep it together in front of the Circle and all our staff, even our friends, but I needed to know. He didn't have to act anymore, we didn't have to pretend when it was just us. His hands shook a little in my own and I looked up into his face for the answer. He swallowed hard and I gently squeezed the ring finger on his left hand, just above his ring. Guilt, relief, and panic all seemed to cross his face at once and then he clenched his jaw. _Maybe not tonight then_, I thought.

He took a deep breath and exhaled, "a lot of trial and error."

My fingers softly traced the new, translucent lines up onto the back of his hand and then to the watch. I could almost hear his heart hammering away in his chest, just as wild as my own.

"And then even more pain and frustration."

My fingers brushed against the cool fabric of his tux shirt and I realized I was completely in his space now.

"Until finally I just...surrendered."

My legs were between his, my hands on his forearms, inches from his face. I licked my lips instinctively and he leaned in.

It was the softest ghost of a kiss and only for a moment. He pulled back just enough for us to share a breath and then leaned in again. This time my fingers slid under his rolled-up sleeves as the kiss deepened, but still gentle and hesitant, as fragile as I still felt. His forearms flexed under my hold like he was clamping onto his knees so he wouldn't be tempted to touch me and I pulled back. Breathless and flushed, I slid away from him, knocking over more magazines and folding my hands in my lap so I wouldn't be tempted to touch him more either. It wasn't fair to either of us.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I shouldn't have done that."

He closed his eyes, nodding quite a few times as his shoulder started to curl inward, "it's okay."

"I'm just not ready."

His eyes snapped open in surprise, "ready?"

"What did you think I was going to say?" I asked, completely confused.

"Interested," he murmured, relaxing his shoulders.

I shook my head. Why would he possibly think that? When I'd been sleeping in his jackets, and wouldn't let Gemma change the orange sheets, and making lists in my head of all the things I was going to scream at him when he came back. Because I knew he would come back. For a lot of different reasons - loyalty, integrity, Anya, the Order. But also to fill that ache in his chest - the same one that had been slowly consuming me too.

"I don't know how to fix this," he said, his voice shaking. "But I want to try."

Tears flooded my eyes and I swallowed hard, nodding, before I thickly said, "it's not just me you have to atone to."

"I know."

"A couple of sucker punches in a hallway isn't the answer either," I sniffled, wiping the tears off my face. "They don't understand you like I do. They're gonna need more time."

"But I can stay?" He looked deep into my eyes for the answer first, the gold catching all the flickers from the TV.

I nodded, "in the bedroom across the hallway from me."

"Thank…" he started to say but I quickly pressed a finger to his lips.

"Don't."

He quietly nodded, "anything else?"

The anger and hurt were still there, but it wasn't as intense anymore. It was going to take a lot of work to get back to something, but as I watched his eyes survey me I knew in my weak, shitty heart I wanted him here. I wasn't ready to walk away from this, from him, from this family we'd made. I closed my eyes briefly and then replied,

"Patience. With me and with them," I gestured down the hall, "and just keep trying, as hard as I am. That's all I ask."

His warm fingers wrapped around my wrist as he kissed my finger, and then gently pulled my hand back so he could kiss my rings as well. With a final squeeze, he let go and stood, offering me a hand up as he asked,

"You want some coffee?"

I waved off his hand and stood on my own, nodding up at him as I answered, "sure."


	36. Chapter 35

I couldn't stop fidgeting. It was easy enough to hide in the folds of my dark blue chiffon a-line skirt, but it was amplifying all my needless panic. The house lights darkened, spotlights swung toward the stage and the velvet, red curtains pulled back to reveal a surprisingly professional-looking set. Some of the girls, in full period piece costumes, stumbled out in front of the crowd and the audience seemed to take a collective breath of anticipation.

Instinctively I leaned my knee into Stellan's leg. The theater was packed with parents and an unnecessary amount of press for such a trivial event. But this small touch wasn't for the cameras, it was a genuine one. I could read his own anxiety in the lines of his shoulders and the sharp focus of his eyes on the stage. We'd been running lines with Anya every weekend for the past three months in preparation for today. We cleared our schedules just for this. He pressed his leg back into my knee and I glanced up to see a nervous smirk slowly form on his face. I had the urge to trace it, but stopped myself and pulled my knee back where it belonged. The line I kept drawing between us because...I still wasn't ready.

Anya sauntered onto the stage, her costume gracefully flowing behind her and I felt myself suck in a nervous breath and hold it - until the curtains closed again. It was a short little play, one of the cardboard towers had fallen over in the middle of a monologue, most of the children weren't very good. But in my proud, and strangely maternal, eyes Anya was perfect. The whole crowd stood clapping and shouting bravo's and brava's, tossing long-stemmed roses onto the stage. The children grabbed hands and took several mistimed bows together. As the curtains started to swing closed Anya gave us a wave and the biggest smile I'd ever seen. The love swelled in my chest to the point of almost bursting. But it popped as soon as Stellan's hand slid into position, mid-back, to gently guide me out toward our waiting group.

At first, I had appreciated it. He remained extremely respectful of my space after...everything. But now it always just left me a little heartbroken. I remembered how his fingers felt cinching around my hips, how his palm would press into the small of my back, how possessive and sexy it felt. Now his touch could be any member of my security staff. But before I could torture myself into another bad mood with that line of thinking Colette quickly capture my arm to whisk me away.

I was eternally grateful to her. She was my built-in excuse to fabricate space from everyone in the aftermath of the Leap Year ball. There had been a lot to sort out and work through. It was still a little touchy to get the four of us in a room together without some kind of mediator. Which was why Colette had basically been living at Riberton for the past three months. But I was surprised to find that today I was actually a little irritated by her interference. There hadn't been a situation that necessitated Stellan being next to me, let alone touching me, for a full week now. And it was confusing and intense to realize that I actually missed it. I wasn't sure what that meant.

But I let myself be led away as Colette's praises mixed with Luc's chatter as he fell in step with Stellan behind me. From the corner of my eye, I caught Jack and Elodie catching up with Luc's new Keeper and this odd feeling started to spread over me. I pulled out my phone to check the date and smirked to myself. I'd been feeling restless for the two weeks leading up to this. I'd been associating it with nerves for Anya's performance, but the constant updates pinging on my phone the last couple days finally solidified it all together. Prom. It was my senior prom tonight.

All of my old Lakehaven friends had been reposting the grainy pictures of me and remembering that crazy night. It had been exactly one year since Jack had appeared at my school and Stellan had kidnapped me from my prom. Everyone was chatting and laughing around me but I was in shock. This restlessness I'd been feeling wasn't because something was wrong. It was that ingrained behavior my mother had drilled into me. This was when we'd usually have our big move at the end of the year. But there was absolutely no way I would leave this or any of them. It wasn't perfect, but it was finally what I had wanted. Friends. Stability. Roots. Family. If someone would have dropped a manila envelope off to me right now I would have set it on fire.

Anya's crushing hug is what finally shook me back into the present. I squeezed her back as hard as I could, petting her shiny blonde hair before she broke free from me and turned her beaming smile onto the rest of the group. Colette showered her with loud praise and launched into a critique of the play that had everyone around us eavesdropping on. When she finally stopped for some air Luc cut in to praise her next,

"_Magnifique ma princessa!_"

"_Merci, serviteur,_" Anya teased back, a look of mischief plain across her face.

"Anya!" Every gasped collectively, unsure of how to react.

"_Faites attention à vos mots Marie Antoinette,_" I cracked back, raising an eyebrow at her. Her face dropped into shock at my French. I'd been biding my time to reveal it to her, and it had paid off perfectly.

"Will you buy me a cake?" She laughed and then looked up into my face with her big puppy dog eyes to ask, "how did I do?"

"You missed a line," I honestly answered.

"I know!" She balled her little fists at her sides, the action getting lost in the puffiness of her period costume. "It flew out of my brain and I panicked. But then I took a deep breath like you told me and see!"

"Other than that you were wonderful," I added with a warm smile.

"Harsh criticism for a seven-year-old," Jack teased. But before I could get a barb in Anya was on the defense.

"I am almost eight! And Avery always gives the best advice."

"Is that so?" Elodie rose an eyebrow. Anya pursed her lips and nodded at Elodie.

"She gives better advice than even you."

She turned on her heel, quite dramatically, and sauntered off toward Stellan instead of continuing with our harassment. He'd fallen several steps behind us, lost in conversation with some other Circle Family's that were in attendance for this. I'd turned to watch her go but quickly had to look past Stellan's left shoulder to make my eyes focus on something else. I couldn't look directly at their interactions anymore. It was just too much to see the love so plainly displayed on his face for Anya. I was hoping this would be the point we could just get into our separate cars and get on with all the things we'd delayed today for this. But Anya started dragging him over with hard tugs on his navy blue suit while beckoning to all her classmates to come into our circle of security.

Our four deep security team closed ranks around us to keep out everyone but Anya's friends. She was absolutely beaming with pride to show off how well she knew Colette, and from the look on my friend's face, I could tell the feeling was mutual. Colette had been soaking up any extra Anya time she could get. She had to start the press tour for her movie in a week and would be out of our lives again for a few months. No one was thrilled with the prospect of how we were going to function without her there. Luc had started a pool on who would pull the first knife. I was contemplating if I should make a bet on myself when I felt Stellan fall into step behind me.

His hand slid right into position, mid-back, warming me up through the thin layer of my pearl white silk shirt. But instead of keeping it steadfast in the same, safe, position, he started to rub it up and down as we listened to everyone gushing about the play. It was just tiny inches of movement, so small no one else would really catch them, but I could feel every infinitesimal move. He was nervous. I knew the tell now. But I couldn't imagine what for. There was more security here than I'd ever seen, not just for our Family but for all the other Circle Family's here. I highly doubted anything bad was going to happen. For one, I wasn't wearing a ball gown.

But his hand slid further down as everyone laughed together about the set falling apart. His thumb started to make those small, quick circles right at the dip of my lower back and it stole the breath from my chest. All my concentration on the conversations around me buzzed away and I wondered - _could he...no. It was probably still too early._

He'd kept his space as he'd promised, but I could see it in his eyes all the time. The hopeful, patient, bidding until I gave him some kind of indication I was ready. The truth was I had been ready, I'd even been willing that first night, but he had been right that we shouldn't force it. If we were going to try again it should happen naturally, if at all. But we were coming up on three months of this...space. I pressed the pad of my thumb into the pointy edges of my diamond ring...his diamond.

He stilled his hand and I turned to look at him. A dry swallow, a blank smile, a nod toward someone. He really did make this all look so easy, effortless. But there was something privately mischievously in knowing his hands continued to say more than his face ever would. He looked down at me then, his eyes widening in surprise to find me watching. The blue poured into me, searching my face as his eyes tightened with worry. Then he seemed to exhale all at once,

"Would you like to go to dinner with me?"

"Oh," I exhaled back.

I wasn't expecting that. Some forced joke, some barely veiled indication of his wanting, even some kind of command I'd come to expect over the last 90 days. Not this. Certainly not how my heart started beating faster in my chest. His fingers moved again, anxious, tight circles and my brain screamed at me to say anything. _Don't torture the man!_

I managed, "I would have."

"Right, the committee meeting." His thumb stopped and I swore I felt a fantom flutter right at my scar. I could have mistaken it. But his forced, clipped, congenial tone back confirmed his disappointment, "sorry. It slipped my mind."

His hand starts to leave and the panic seized me. I wanted to go with him. I hadn't felt that way in a really long time. Maybe we could be saved. Maybe we could rebuild. I still wasn't sure if I was rebuilding in hurricane country or solid foundation yet, but I wanted to try. Dinner. Just dinner, together, alone. If I really did want this to work I couldn't keep stringing him along in this limbo. We had to start somewhere. And if I was being honest with myself I couldn't take his smoldering looks for much longer.

I turned so I was standing right in front of him and looked up into his face, "I'll cancel it."

"You don't need to," he tried to pacify. But the hope...the hope in his eyes made everything buzz within me like it had the first time, a million years ago. I could see the hesitation in his eyes, the walls he'd been building too, how he was holding his breath like he was bracing for impact. Start with something small. I smiled,

"I want to."

* * *

A/N - For all the girls that find the answer in themselves. You are enough. Don't ever forget that.


End file.
